Time Crash
by AnkouBlake
Summary: McGonagall acts upon mysterious orders given to her in a letter, left to her by Dumbledore and unknowingly sets events into action that could change the future of the Wizarding World forever. Some DH spoliers I guess. AU, too. Rated to be safe. Angst too!
1. Out of Time

**Summery:** No one knew that Dumbledore left Minerva McGonagall with something of great importance. After his death, he entrusted her with a sealed box and a letter, a letter that had been in his possession for quite some time, a letter that he had never opened, a letter that was addressed to her and her alone. It was a letter that Minerva McGonagall has read several times since procuring it. Now, on May 2, 1998, the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, McGonagall acts upon the mysterious orders given to her in that letter and unknowingly sets events into action that could change the future of the Wizarding World forever.

**Notes:** This is my first attempt at writing a time meddling fic and I only hope that I can pull it off. Ignores the Deathly Hallows story arc but is mostly canon. Also, for those of you who watch Doctor Who and Torchwood, you may recognize some of themes that make up the plot. I basically came up with this idea after watching Torchwood, series two, episode three, "To The Last Man." So anyway, here we go and I hope it's not rubbish. Story begins during/right after Ron and Hermione's kiss, (Chapter 31, The Battle of Hogwarts, page 625 in the American hardcover).

**Pairings**: Harry/Ginny (implied), Ron/Hermione (implied), Hermione/Tom Riddle

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and the WB and it affiliates. The concepts of time travel belong to the BBC through Torchwood and Doctor Who. No infringement is intended.

**Chapter 1: Out of Time:**

_2 May, 1998 (12:57 a.m.)_

Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor, Head of Gryffindor House and Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was running out of time. The battle was blustering on around her and she desperately needed to duck away. She fired another skilled curse at an oncoming Death Eater and affectively took him out, giving her the very second she needed to carry out her duties. She vanished into a classroom on her left and hastily rummaged through her dressing gown pockets. Her hand brushed the small box that she had kept on her person every since it had come into her possession in June of 1997. It was one of only two things that Dumbledore had left her. That box and a letter which had been addressed to her in a hand she had not recognized. The letter she had read countless times before and she pulled it out along with the box.

It was a small box, made out of a smooth dark wood that had been magically sealed and which no curse or charm had been able to open. She had tired. She placed the box upon the desk at the front of the room and pulled out the worn parchment that had complemented it. The paper was smooth and tattered as a result of having been read so many times. She read it again, wanting to make absolutely sure that she was about to do the thing perfectly.

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_This task has been entrusted to you upon the knowledge that Albus Dumbledore will be dead by the time you receive this letter. The box that accompanies this letter has been sealed until the time it is needed. When that time comes, the seal will break and you will be able to carry out the instructions that I have left for you._

McGonagall ceased reading as the box on the table in front of her gave a little shudder. She watched with anticipation as the top of the box, which until that point had remained unopened, slid itself off and a shining golden mist evaporated into the air revealing in its wake a small, round stone the size of a pearl. McGonagall staved off her wonder and hastily read through the rest of the letter.

_When the time comes and the box opens, the object enclosed will activate. At exactly 1:00 a.m., banish it and the magic within will do the rest. It is imperative that you follow these instruction to the very letter. The fate of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World rests, partially, in your hands. Fear not, if done correctly your troubles will be over._

_Signed most sincerely ,_

_(the name of the mysterious saviour had never been legible, but smudged and blotchy, as if the writer had been crying at that point)_

_P.S., I'm so sorry._

McGonagall put the letter down and glanced at the clock on the wall. 12:59. She took a deep breath and aimed her wand at the small pearl-like stone, the noise of the battle ringing on around her. She glanced at the clock again and when the hands struck 1 a.m., she waved her wand and the small stone vanished from the box, but the battle still raged on.

* * *

"Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?" Harry shouted. "D'you think you could just...just hold it in until we've got the diadem?"

"Yeah...right...sorry..." said Ron, still pink in the ears over the first kiss he and Hermione had just shared.

As Harry turned toward the exit of the Room of Requirement, Hermione gave a loud, startled gasp, causing Harry to whip around, his wand at the ready. He could plainly see the explanation for her gasp floating an inch in front of them. A fine, incandescent golden mist was shifting around in the middle of the room, swirling and dancing in the air as if it were caught in a breeze. It reminded Harry very much of the substance in Dumbledore's Pensieve in that it was neither gas nor liquid. Ron gaped at it and looked at Harry, who only shrugged.

"Blimey," Ron whispered, stepping closer to Hermione as Harry came up next to them.

Harry held up his hand and stretched it toward the strange golden light but Hermione slapped it away.

"Harry, no," she said, honey-brown eyes wide, "You don't know what it is."

Harry looked at her, then back at the golden mist-light that churned in front of him. It didn't feel evil and if it were a trick of Voldemort's, his scar would surely be burning. There were no warning bells ringing in his head when he looked at the mist, only an increasing sense of benevolence.

"It doesn't feel evil," Harry said softly.

"Can't you feel it, Hermione?" Ron asked, wonder plain in his voice, "It's like...it's like we're supposed to be seeing this. I don't know why but I feel like we're supposed to...do something with this."

"I agree with Ron," Harry nodded, "I think we're meant to touch it, or something. I get this weird feeling that I've seen this before."

"I do, too," Hermione said finally, her voice soft, "But something feels...sorrowful about it...to me."

The castle around them shuddered violently with a simultaneous explosion and Hermione flinched before eying the golden mist-light again, wearily. She looked at Ron who nodded and then at Harry who seemed to be waiting for her permission before she nodded her head.

"Wait," she said, forestalling the boys from touching it, "We do it together. On three? One. Two. Three."

On three all of their hands touched the mist at the same time. It was warm and tingly to the touch. When their flesh made contact with the substance, a bright, blinding light filled the room followed by a loud rumbling sound and in an instant, it was all over. The light faded and the noise ceased and they were left blinking in the wake of the brilliance. When their eyes adjusted, they saw that they were standing in the exact same spot that they had been. It appeared as if nothing had happened at all.

"What the bloody hell was that, then?" Ron asked, looking around.

"Shush," Hermione said, "Listen. Can you hear that?"

"I don't hear anything," Harry said after a moment's silence.

"Exactly," Hermione replied, "What happened to the battle? Why can't we hear fighting anymore?"

"You don't think the Order's lost do you?" Ron asked, a panicked look in his eyes.

"They can't have done," Harry shook his head.

Ron rushed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, grabbing his arm.

"My whole family's out there, Hermione," Ron replied, "I need to see what's happened. I need to see if they're alright."

Ron pulled open the door and ran headlong into someone who had been standing in the corridor. Hermione rushed out after him, her wand poised and ready for an attack but upon seeing the person in the corridor, her mouth dropped open in unabashed surprise. Harry clamored after her and the shock of the sight in front of him sent him reeling backwards into the now solid stretch of wall. Ron goggled up at the man he had run into like a landed trout.

"So sorry," said the man, looking down at Ron over half-moon spectacles, "I wasn't paying attention."

A much younger Albus Dumbledore smiled kindly at Ron and offered him his hand. Ron took it, his face still shocked and Dumbledore helped him up. Hermione had replaced her wand and had taken to looking around wildly as if she could figure out what had just happened. Harry had finally recovered and stood up, gazing at Dumbledore as if he had never seen him before.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked dumbly.

"Yes?" Dumbledore smiled, "Forgive me but, who are you? I don't think I've ever seen you three here before. I've rather entertained the idea that I knew everyone at Hogwarts."

"We, er, that is, uh," Harry stuttered at a loss of what to say. He wasn't even sure what just happened, let alone how to explain it.

"Professor," Hermione asked, "Do you mind telling us...what the year is?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses, "And you're not even the one who suffered the bump on the head. But to answer your question, it is 1941. The first of September, to be thorough."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all exchanged wide-eyed looks. Dumbledore watched the whole exchange in an amused fashion.

"I know who you must be," Dumbledore said quite loudly, causing the three to jump, "You must be those exchange students from the home study courses!"

"Right!" Harry said, happy to go along with the explanation, "Right. We are them."

Hermione shot Harry a look and he gave her a half-shrug.

"The other students haven't arrived yet," Dumbledore replied, starting down the hallway in the direction of the Headmaster's office, "We didn't know whether or not you would be arriving via the train or a more private manner, though I must confess my surprise of coming across you in the seventh floor corridor."

"We were looking for the Headmaster's office, sir," Hermione said, inventing wildly, "We got lost."

"An easy feat for new students to the school," Dumbledore replied, "I will take you to the Headmaster's office where you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

The three friends followed behind their ex-Headmaster in stunned silence while sneaking covert glances at one another. Dumbledore stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to the Headmaster's office and spoke the password. They joined him on the revolving spiral staircase and waited for the oak door to open. Dumbledore led them in and they stood in front of the orderly desk, the Sorting Hat siting on the shelf behind it. Harry noted that the windows that, in Dumbledore's time as Headmaster were never concealed, had curtains drawn. The office was also much less cluttered now than it had been in Harry's own era, as there were no tables supporting Dumbledore's collection of silvery objects.

"Wait here and I will fetch Headmaster Dippet," Dumbledore said and with a wave of his wand, conjured three chairs for them to sit on.

Dumbledore disappeared from the room and, when they were sure that he was gone, they erupted into whispered chatter.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Ron exploded quietly.

"I dunno," Harry replied, "But it sure is weird to see Dumbledore again..."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "It was that mist! I know it is! I told you there was something wrong with it."

"Yeah well, a load of good that does us," Harry said, "I could swear that it wouldn't do any harm."

"We were all prepared to think that," Ron said, "But now it's taken us back in time! Bloody hell, we're back in 1941."

"Why would it bring us back to 1941?" Hermione asked, "What's the point?"

"Maybe we're supposed to do something," Harry suggested, "You know, change something?"

"We can't," Hermione snapped, "Meddling with time is strictly forbidden. Simply by being here, now, might have messed up a lot of things in our own time. It's unnatural and wrong!"

"Well there's nothing we can do about it now," Harry sighed, "We're in the past and we don't know how to get back."

"And what was the idea, telling Dumbledore that we're exchange students?" Ron asked, "What if the real people show up?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Harry replied, "And I didn't see you coming up with an explanation."

Ron looked bemused and shut his mouth.

"Harry, what are we going to do?" Hermione asked, "We can't stay here."

"We have to," Harry replied, "We don't have any other choice at the moment."

Just then, they saw Dumbledore enter the room followed by a feeble and somewhat balding wizard that could only be Headmaster Dippet. The Headmaster wandered over to the chair behind the desk and sat down. There was a tidy stack of papers off to the left and he took one from the top and looked at it and then looked at the three new students.

"Hermione Granger," Headmaster Dippet asked, his voice soft but firm.

Hermione looked startled but managed to speak, "Yes, sir?"

"It says here that you will be entering into your fifth year, equivalent, is that correct?" Headmaster Dippet asked, gazing at her with dark eyes.

"Er," Hermione looked at Harry who's head sort of spasmed in nod, "Yes, sir."

"Dumbledore will place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be placed into one of our four houses," Headmaster Dippet began.

"I've already taken the liberty to inform them about the school's operations, Headmaster," Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, very good," Dippet replied, "Proceed then."

"You just need to relax, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled kindly at her and she nodded.

He placed the Sorting Hat on Hermione's head and it pronounced her Gryffindor again.

"Ronald Waz..." Headmaster Dippet squinted at the paper as if he were not sure that he was reading it correctly, "Waz...Wazlib?"

Harry had to nudge Ron in the side before he said, "Yeah, that's me, sorry."

"What kind of name is Wazlib?" Dippet asked.

"Er, it's German?" Ron suggested feebly and Hermione gave him wide eyes before Ron cottoned on, "Er...ages ago, German...way back, relative...German...Irish decent too, my family. Most recently Irish. That explains the ginger, you know?"

Headmaster Dippet was giving Ron a peculiar look and he sunk into his chair a little lower.

"Okay," Dippet replied, "Dumbledore."

Dumbledore put the hat on him and he, too, became a Gryffindor once more.

"And you must be Harry Evans," Dippet said.

"Uh," Harry stuttered in shock of hearing his mother's maiden name, "Right."

Dumbledore placed the hat on Harry's head and Harry, confident that he would be a Gryffindor again like his friends, was stunned to the point of disappointment when the hat pronounced him a Slytherin. Dumbledore placed the Sorting Hat back on its shelf and Hermione and Ron looked at him with mingled looks of surprise and sympathy.

"Right," Dippet said, "Now that that's taken care of, Miss Granger, it says here that you have very accomplished grades. I receive an owl last night that the Gyffindor student that I had selected to become a Prefect is violently ill with spattergroit and cannot attend school until he is better. So, in light of your outstanding academic achievement, would you like to fill the position as Prefect?"

"Alright," Hermione replied less that enthusiastically.

"Very good," Dippet handed her a Prefect badge and stood, "Professor Dumbledore will show you to the Great Hall where you will wait until the rest of the student arrive, which should be any moment now. That being said, enjoy your time at Hogwarts."

Dippet dismissed them and Dumbledore set off toward the Great Hall. Harry followed behind his friends with a dark gloom over his head. Not only were they stuck in an alternate time, they were now, no longer permitted to spend every hour of the day together.

"Harry," Hermione whispered as they followed Dumbledore, "Maybe you can ask Dippet to sort you again?"

"He doesn't seem the type to allow that, Hermione," Harry said.

"There has to be a way," Hermione urged, "Harry, we need to stick together."

"We can," Harry replied, "Just not like we did in our time."

Hermione looked as if she were going to say something else but decided against it. Dumbledore left them in the Great Hall after showing them where their House tables were and left to go attend to the students who were arriving. Harry stayed with Ron and Hermione until the other students began to file into the Hall, and began seating themselves at their House tables. Harry was just about to head toward the Slytherin table when he caught a glimpse of someone that he knew very well. A tall, handsome youth strode purposefully toward the Slytherin table followed by a group of snide and mean looking people. A cold hatred flared up inside his chest and his eyes narrowed. Hermione, noticing that Harry was still around and the look on his face, touched his arm lightly.

"What is it, Harry?" She asked, standing on her toes to try and see who or what he was staring at.

Harry raised his hand and pointed toward the handsome boy at the Slytherin table surrounded by his would-be Death Eaters and said two word, "Tom Riddle."


	2. An Unimaginable Predicament

**AN: **Thank you to **panther73110**, **kahpfan**, and **WamprickNyx** for the reviews and story alerts! Onto the next.

**Chapter 2: An Unimaginable Predicament:**

Hermione's eyes went wide and her grip on Harry's arm became considerably tighter. She looked over and saw the unthinkably handsome face of the boy who would one day became a grotesque, evil monster hellbent on taking over the Wizarding World. Hermione found herself staring at Tom Riddle, taking in his jet black hair and dark eyes, his smooth, gaunt face and arrogant expression.

"I'll kill him," Harry said darkly.

"Harry, you can't!" Hermione shook him, pulling him around so that she could look him in the eyes, "You have no idea the consequences that could result if you do something as drastic as that."

"He killed my parents, Hermione," Harry replied, "He's killed so many people and you expect me to just sit there and let his younger self rise to become the most evil wizard of all time?"

"Don't you remember what I told you in our third year?" Hermione huffed, "Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time! I can't stress that point enough!"

Harry looked away from her and over his shoulder at the young man who was holding a whispered conversation with his fellows. Hermione shook him again, causing him to look at her, his green eyes narrowed.

"Harry, please," she whispered.

Harry glared at Riddle again and looked down at Hermione's hand where it was latched onto his arm.

"Besides," Hermione began, "He's only about fifteen, isn't he? He hasn't killed anyone yet, right?"

Harry thought back to all of the thing Dumbleodre had showed him in the Pensieve. Harry knew that Riddle already knew about his parentage and that the Chamber of Secrets existed. Dumbledore had guess that Riddle had found the Chamber in his fifth year.

"Not yet," Harry nodded, "But he will soon."

"If everyone will take their seats, please," came the voice of Headmaster Dippet and it was then that Harry realised that everyone was already seated.

Hermione released her grip on Harry's arm and walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Ron. Harry joined the Slytherin's at the far end of the table, as far away from Riddle as he could manage.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts," Headmaster Dippet announced, "First, I would like to announce that we have three new fifth year students joining us from a home schooling program. If you three will please stand and the rest of you lot make them feel welcome."

Harry cursed under his breath and stood along with Ron and Hermione. A smattering of applause broke out across the hall. Harry could feel Riddle's eyes on him and it was all he could do to not turn and look at him.

"Thank you, you may sit," Dippet continued, as they obeyed, "Now, onto the Sorting!"

Harry watched as the new first years marched into the hall. He scanned the hall and picked out the looming form of Hagrid easily amongst the Gryffindor's. He had almost forgotten that Hagrid was at school at this point in time and he quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else that he recognised. Sure enough, there sat a stern looking young woman with jet black hair and dark eyes, which, in this time, were free of the square glasses that Harry had always known her to wear. She, too, was a Gryffindor and Harry wasn't the least bit surprised to see a Prefect badge gleaming on her chest. He didn't see anyone else in Gryffindor that he knew, but found the sulking, chubby, spotty face of Myrtle amongst the Ravenclaws.

The Great Hall broke out into a louder applause than it had done and Harry realised that the Sorting was over. He joined in the din and soon found food blooming before him. Harry ate quickly and found that it wasn't hard to get Hermione and Ron's attention. He nodded toward them and the three of them got up from the table and made a hasty retreat into the Entrance Hall.

"Did you see McGonagall?" Ron said as they entered the dead silent entrance hall, "It's weird."

"And Hagrid," Hermione smiled, "Hagrid's here too."

"So is Myrtle," Harry nodded, "So that means that he hasn't opened the Chamber yet. But I know he does it this year."

"You don't think that we got sucked back here to stop him, do you?" Ron asked.

"I do," Harry replied, rushing on as Hermione opened her mouth, "But Hermione says we can't do anything to try and change the past."

"Are you mental?" Ron asked.

"No, Ronald," Hermione snapped, "It's you two."

"Hermione we can stop him!" Harry said, "Right here, right now."

"We can't!" Hermione yelled, her voice echoing in the empty hall.

"But if we do," Harry tried again, "Hermione, if we do, my parents would still be alive. And Dumbledore and Myrtle and everyone else that he'll go on to kill."

"Did you ever stop to think what affect that would have on the world, Harry?" Hermione snapped, "I know it's hard for you to accept this but you must allow history to unfold the way it's supposed to. If we change something now, something worse might happen later."

"But..." Harry tried again.

"NO!" Hermione roared, "Haven't you heard of the butterfly effect?"

"No," Ron said, "What do butterflies have to do with anything, anyway?"

"It's a theory," Hermione sighed, "A theory that pertains particularly to time travel. It basically states that should one travel in time, even the smallest thing done in the past will have a large impact on the future."

Both Ron and Harry gave her blank faces and she resisted the urge to throttle them both. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"What I'm trying to say is, the mere presence of us in the past, or now, whatever you like, would be enough to change short-term events," Hermione began, "And would also have an unpredictable impact on the distant future."

"So..." Ron asked.

"So..." Hermione huffed and then her stern face changed dramatically, "Hold on..."

Ron and Harry exchanged the same look of confusion as they watched Hermione pace around in a little circle, muttering to herself.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, "Harry, I think we could!"

"Could what?" Harry said.

"I think we can stop him!" Hermione smiled, "Yes, yes it's possible!"

"Do you mind explaining it to us then?" Ron asked with an amused look on his face.

"All probability states that we've already disrupted the time line by being here," Hermione began, "And according to the butterfly effect theory, we've created a time paradox...which means, we can changed time but when we return to our own time..."

"If we can, you mean," Ron chimed in rather morosely.

"_When _we return to our own time," Hermione said again, "It won't be the same one we left."

"So my parents will be alive," Harry smiled.

"Maybe," Hermione nodded to him.

"What do you mean, maybe?" Harry asked, "If we stop Tom Riddle from becoming Voldemort, he would've never killed them."

"Harry, that's what I've been trying to tell you," Hermione shook her head, "The butterfly effect is a chaos theory. The actions we take may or may not have a direct affect on the future. Just because we stop Tom Riddle doesn't mean that your parents won't have died from something like a car accident. There's no way to tell what will happen. So if we stop him now, the effect on the future may make things better...or worse."

The doors to the Great Hall burst open and throngs of students began to pool out from within. Dinner had ended and Harry stood facing Hermione, taking in her words. Harry saw Riddle and his gang pass him and watched as they descended the stairs toward the dungeons. The entrance hall emptied and the three of them were left standing alone again.

"So even if we somehow stop him it won't make a difference?" Harry asked.

"I honestly don't know, Harry," Hermione said, "But we can try, if that's what you want."

Harry looked after the echoes of the other Slytherin's, "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I want."

"Alright then," Hermione nodded, "We should meet in the Room of Requirement tomorrow to work out a plan. See you in the morning Harry, and try not to do anything rash, please."

"I won't," Harry nodded and Hermione smiled.

"See ya, mate," Ron clapped him on the back, "Blimey this is odd, knowing that you can't come with us."

"Yeah," Harry agreed quietly, "Night."

Harry stood in the entrance hall and watched as his two best friends climbed the stair toward the common room that they all once shared. After another fleeting look from Hermione, Harry turned and descended the stairs toward the Slytherin common room. He was grateful that he had taken on the form of Goyle in second year because it had gained him to knowledge of where the Slytherin common room was. He stood in front of the blank wall and realised that he didn't know the password.

"Slytherin pride," Harry called and when nothing happened, he racked his braid for more Slytherin-like things to say, "Pure blood? Muggle's are scum? Noble? Sly? Cunning?"

The wall remained a wall and Harry cursed.

"Open says me," Came a smooth voice on his right.

Harry nearly gave himself whiplash in his haste to see who had spoken the password. Tom Riddle stood facing him, handsome features twisted in scrutiny of the new student. Harry gave him blank green eyes.

"Are you going in or not?" Riddle asked.

"Er," Harry replied, "Yeah, thanks."

He walked into the dankness of the common room and watched as Riddle followed after him.

"Open says me," Harry asked, "Really?"

The corner of Riddle's mouth sort of spasmed, "No one would ever guess, would they?"

"Obviously not," Harry nodded.

"Tom Riddle," Riddle announced, holding out his slender hand.

"Harry Po...Evans," Harry corrected himself quickly and forced himself to take Riddle's hand.

The boys shook hands and Harry was surprised by the lack of grip that Riddle had. Harry had imagined Riddle to have a handshake like a vice.

"I'm a fifth year, too," Riddle said as he waved a younger student out of a chair by the feeble fire. Harry stood in the middle of the room, uncertainly. Riddle noticed and offered Harry a seat that was already occupied, or at least it was until Riddle gave the older girl a dark look and she moved. Harry took the now vacant seat and stared at Riddle. He already had so much power over the other Slytherin's.

"And a Prefect I see?" Harry inclined his head toward the badge gleaming on Riddle's chest.

Riddle's mouth did that funny twitch again before he replied, "Naturally. I'm the best in my year."

"My friend's a Prefect, too," Harry said.

"Who?" Riddle asked.

"She's a new student, as well," Harry replied, "Her name's Hermione. She's in Gryffindor."

"Oh," Riddle said with a distinct air of dislike, "I'd be careful if I were you, Evans."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, the first edge of apprehension creeping into his stomach at Riddle's tone.

"Slytherin's stick to Slytherin's," Riddle said, "That's the way it's always been. And you're obviously pure-blood or else the hat wouldn't have placed you here."

"I'm a half-blood actually," Harry replied flatly.

Riddle's dark eyes looked as though they had taken on a red tint and Harry could see the first beginnings of Voldemort in that one look. Harry remembered something Dumbledore had told him, that Riddle liked to think himself special. Riddle had been the only half-blood sorted into Slytherin for centuries and now here came Harry, who was also half-blood. Maybe Harry should have withheld that bit of info.

"What about you," Harry asked.

"I've got good blood in my veins," Riddle said, sitting back in his chair.

Harry had to say that it was a very eloquent answer. It neither confirmed nor denied his muggle blood. And it sure would have made the other Slytherin's think that his blood was pure. Pure blood was good blood in their eyes. Riddle was a smart one indeed. Harry faked a huge yawn and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses.

"Where's our dormitory?" Harry asked.

"First door on the left," Riddle waved in the direction of a stairwell.

Harry stood up and nodded at Riddle, "It was nice to meet you."

Riddle didn't answer, but made a noncommittal head nod in Harry's general direction. Harry turned on his heel and walked toward the stairwell that led even further down. He could feel Riddle's eyes on him as he went. This was going to be interesting.


	3. A Plan

**AN: **Thank you to **HedwignPig**, **potterhead0013** and **stsgirlie** for the favourites, reviews and alerts!

**Chapter 3: A Plan:**

The next morning found Harry waking to an ice cold feeling of panic. It was several seconds before he realised that he had not dreamt the whole time travel experience and was, in fact, in 1941 and a Slytherin. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow and reached for his glasses. As he sat up and parted the emerald curtains around his four poster and wasn't too shocked to see that Riddle had already woken. The other Slytherin boys were still sound asleep. Harry rose and dressed quickly, (Dumbledore had gone out for uniforms and school supplies for the new students and had their Heads of House deliver them), and walked out into the freezing common room to see that Riddle had already gone up to breakfast.

* * *

Harry walked into the Great Hall to see that Hermione and Ron had not yet woken and sat down at the table with Riddle and a few other early risers. Harry pulled a bit of egg onto his plate with a nod to Riddle who returned it tersely. It seemed like ages until Ron and Hermione came down to breakfast. Harry desperately wanted to speak with them but didn't dare get up and walk across the hall to talk with a pair of Gryffindors. Professor Slughorn walked down the table and passed out the time tables and Harry felt a huge relief flood through him. The fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors had all of their classes together. His first class was doubles Potions. He could get a note to Hermione and Ron during that class. 

Harry looked up to see McGonagall walking over to the Slytherin table and he admired her nerve. She walked over to Riddle who looked up at her with a pleasant yet blank face.

"McGonagall?" He asked.

"Prewett asked me to remind you that we have a Prefect meeting tonight," McGonagall said, "7:30, in the library."

"Thank you, McGonagall," Riddle replied, fixing her with a charming smile.

Harry saw McGonagall roll her eyes and couldn't help feeling an immense sense of fondness for her. Riddle watched her go with a deep look of loathing and returned to his breakfast. Harry could plainly see that Riddle was trying to fool the entire school into thinking that he was a charming young man. It seemed that only the Slytherin students knew his true colours and Harry was sure that even they didn't know the truth. But he did. He knew all about Riddle and his games and he refused to be played. Harry glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost time for his first class. He decided that he would head to the classroom early in hopes of catching Ron and Hermione on the way.

He saw them get up from the Gryffindor table and smiled to himself. Maybe they could start forming the plan early. His hopes were quickly dashed, however, when he saw Riddle follow him out of the hall. He ignored him and walked over to Ron and Hermione anyway.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them.

He caught Hermione's look of suspicion and Ron's look of total hatred and knew that Riddle was standing behind him. As he turned around, his suspicions were confirmed. Riddle stood just behind him, staring at the Gryffindors.

"What do you want, Riddle?" Harry asked, trying to keep the enquiry at a conversational tone.

"I just wanted to introduce myself to my new year mates," Riddle replied smoothly, "Do you have a problem with that, Evans?"

"None whatsoever," Harry said with a forced smile.

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said, holding out his hand to Ron.

Ron stared at Riddle's hand like it was a Blast-Ended Skrewt but with an elbow in the side from Hermione, he took it.

"Ron Wazlib."

"That's an interesting surname," Riddle replied, "Where does it come from?"

"Germany," Ron said, "Way back, though."

"And you are?" Riddle turned to Hermione with a most peculiar look on his face.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she answered, extending her hand to him.

Riddle took her hand in his and bent over it, bestowing a light kiss upon it. Harry saw Ron go pink in the ears and Hermione fight the look of disgust as she took her hand away. Ron immediately threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Hermione, Harry was surprised to note, didn't attempt to fight him off. Riddle took the scene in with a look that Harry didn't like, but he didn't say anything.

"I see you're a Prefect, Granger," he nodded toward her badge.

"That's right," Hermione said.

"I don't know if you've been told," Riddle said, "But we have a meeting at 7:30 in the library tonight."

"I already knew," Hermione replied, "But thank you for telling me."

"I look forward to working with you," Riddle said with the funny mouth spasm that Harry now took to be his version of a smile.

Hermione didn't say anything and the three of them watched as Riddle headed toward the dungeons. As soon as he had disappeared down the stairs, Hermione wiped her hand on her robes.

"What a slippery..." her voice was drowned out by Ron.

"Wanker," Ron finished for her, "Who does that prat think he is, swanning about like that?"

"He's Voldemort," Harry reminded them, "Well, on his way to becoming Voldemort, anyway. What did you think he was going to be like?"

"He reminds me of Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Only more evil," Ron chimed in.

"And more charming," she said.

"And more charm...what?!" Ron gaped at her.

"Well, he is," Hermione answered as she started across the entrance hall in the direction of the dungeons.

"You can't be serious, Hermione," Ron followed after her looking incredulous.

"Oh, but I am," Hermione nodded, "He is charming and handsome."

"And bloody dangerous!" Ron shot at her.

"I know that, Ronald!" Hermione snapped, "You don't think I'd fall for it, do you?"

"I certainly hope not," Ron replied.

"Jealous?" Hermione called in a sing-song voice over her shoulder.

"No," Ron said, "I'm just concerned, is all."

"You don't have to worry, Ron," Hermione said and Harry caught her gleeful smile, "I won't fall for the big, bad Dark Lord."

"Good," Ron smiled.

"Are you talking about Grindelwald?" Riddle asked.

"Er," Ron stuttered, "Yeah. Do you know him?"

Riddle gave Ron a look and Hermione shook her head.

"Of course I don't know him," Riddle replied.

"Of course," Ron said, "Yeah. Naturally. What I meant was, do you know _of _him?"

"Who doesn't?" Riddle replied.

"Right," Ron nodded.

Other Slytherin and Gryffindor student appeared behind them and Ron was clearly grateful for the distraction. They joined the queue that formed at the door and waited for Slughorn to show up. The class saw Harry, Ron and Hermione separated from each other. Harry was also disheartened to note that Riddle proclaimed himself to be Harry's potion's partner for the rest of the year. Harry was sure that Riddle was keeping tabs on him but for what ends, he had no idea but it probably wouldn't be good. The rest of the day saw Harry still separated from his friends. He did manage to get a note to them at lunch asking for a meeting in the Room of Requirement at nine.

* * *

Harry and Ron sat on an overstuffed couch in front of a roaring fire inside the Room of Requirement. Harry glanced at his watch. It was five past nine and Hermione hadn't shown up. Ron got to his feet. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to look for her," Ron replied, "Its not like Hermione to be late."

"Maybe her meeting ran late," Harry said.

"Or maybe Riddle's done something to her!" Ron said.

"I'm sure she's fine, Ron." Harry sighed, "Sit down."

Ron opened his mouth to reply but hastily shut it as the door opened and a flustered looking Hermione walked in. Her cheeks were pink as she sat down.

"You're okay," Ron smiled, sitting next to her, "What's wrong?"

"Riddle," Hermione answered.

Ron jumped to his feet, "What's he done? Did he hurt you? I'll kill him!"

"I'm fine, Ron," she snapped, "He was just hounding me with questions, that's all."

"He's been keeping a close eyes on me, too," Harry replied, "I don't think he trusts us."

"He doesn't trust _us_?" Ron snorted, "Well isn't that the pot calling the cauldron black?"

"Harry's right," Hermione nodded, "He seems to be keeping a keen eye on us. I could feel him watching me the whole meeting."

"What did he ask you, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just things about the home study courses," Hermione replied, "Which reminds me, we had all better get our stories straight. Naturally, people will be curious about us."

"Okay," Harry nodded, "Good idea. So we're students from a home study course who's parents finally thought us ready to go to a proper school..."

"And we had already been down for Hogwarts since birth," Hermione added, "But our parents were very protective..."

"And so they elected to teach us until they thought we were ready," Ron continued, "And that is now, so they sent us to school."

"He also asked me about my blood status," Hermione replied, "I lied and told him I was half-blood."

"I think we'd all better say that," Harry nodded, "Even you, Ron."

"Yeah, I figured," Ron replied, "I don't think there's a pure blood family named Wazlib running around. What else did he ask?"

Hermione looked at her hands and her face went sort of pink again, "Er...he asked about...my relationship with you two."

"What?" Harry asked, hardly being able to stop the amused smile he felt.

"WHAT?" Ron yelled, "The nerve of him!"

"Well, I can hardly blame him," Hermione said, "The way you got all possessive of me in the Entrance Hall this morning."

"I was not being possessive," Ron retorted, "I was being protective."

Harry snorted and Ron shot him a look, "What did you tell him?"

"The truth," Hermione replied.

"And what is the truth?" Ron asked.

"That Harry and I are like family," Hermione answered as her cheeks went pink again, "And that you and I are...together."

"Oh, well, okay then," Ron beamed, "As long as he knows...Together how, exactly?"

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione sighed, "Together, together. Can we move on, please?"

"I suppose," Ron replied, still smiling widely.

"I dunno," Harry chimed in, "He seemed rather interested in you this morning."

"Harry," Hermione snapped, "Must you, really?"

"I'm being completely serious, though," Harry said, "He had this weird look on his face when he saw you."

"That's fascinating," Hermione rushed on, "Can we focus on coming up with a plan, please?"

"I say we corner him somewhere and do him in," Ron replied.

Hermione gave him a look.

"What?" Ron asked, "It's quick and efficient."

Hermione sighed and Harry laughed.

"Can't you be serious?" Hermione asked.

"I was," Ron said indignantly.

"I know for a fact that he finds the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets this year," Harry offered, "And that Myrtle becomes his first victim. We could try and keep him from finding the Chamber?"

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, "For that bit of _constructive_ thinking."

Ron glared at her and muttered something under his breath.

"Or maybe I can open the chamber and kill the basilisk before he can get to it," Harry continued.

"That sounds way to dangerous Harry," Hermione replied.

"Besides," Ron said, "Didn't you say that it only obeyed Riddle? And you had Fawkes to help you...and Gryffindor's sword...and..."

"Thank you, Ron," Harry said, "Never mind that idea, then."

"I think we had better try to keep him away from the chamber as much as we possibly can," Hermione suggested, "Its in the girls bathroom, so I can keep watch over it on a regular basis."

"But what do Harry and I do?" Ron asked, "We can't go in there. Girls still use it in this time."

"You can keep watch outside of it," Hermione said, "Harry, do you still have your invisibility cloak?"

"I do!" Harry replied.

It was then that Harry realised that he was still wearing the moleskin pouch that Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. He opened it and looked inside. His heart sank. The broken fragment of the mirror that Sirius had given him was gone. In fact, everything he had put in the pouch was gone, save the Golden Snitch. He told the others as much and Hermione frowned.

"That's odd," she said, "It should all be in there."

"What about your bag, Hermione?" Harry asked, "You did have it with you when we were in the room in our own time, didn't you?"

"I did," Hermione replied, "But I left it in the dormitory. I can check it when we get back to the tower."

"I don't like this," Ron said.

"Me neither," Harry agreed.

"Well, we can't dwell on it now," Hermione replied, "So that's the plan so far? Keep Riddle away from the second floor bathroom?"

"I guess," Harry replied and Ron nodded.

"Alright then," Hermione smiled, "Lets get to it."


	4. Catalyst

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **jessica.boc**, **The Speed of Darkness**, **wolfie22** and **Electric Dawn** for the reviews and alerts!

**Chapter 4: Catalyst:**

It had been two weeks since the trio had formed "The Plan," as Hermione had taken to calling it and so far, the operation had been running smoothly. Hermione was often on Prefect duty and asked to be assigned to keeping watch over the second floor. Ignatius Prewett, the Head Boy, had graciously agreed. Riddle, whom Hermione had noticed had taken a keen interest into her, Harry and Ron's every move, volunteered himself to accompany her. And it was on a dark night, that a flaw in their plan occurred. Hermione and Riddle walked down the dark, silent second floor corridor without speaking to each other. They passed the bathroom and Hermione saw Riddle stop, mid step, his eyes on the bathroom door.

"Do you hear that?" Riddle asked, making his way toward the girls bathroom.

Hermione rushed after him, alarm bells ringing, "Hear what?"

"That voice," Riddle replied.

Hermione stopped and listened. She couldn't hear anything. Her eyes widened. She had forgotten that Riddle was a Parselmouth. Could it be possible that the basilisk could sense the heir of its master back in the castle? Could it possibly be calling for Riddle, begging him to release it?

"Voice?" Hermione replied, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice, "What voice?"

Riddle stopped just in front of the door. He pressed his ear against it and listened.

"There's someone in there," Riddle replied, "I can hear them talking."

Hermione came up just behind him.

"It sounds like..." Riddle began, "It sounds like a boy."

He pulled his face away from the door and made a move, as if to open it.

"DON'T!" Hermione yelled.

Riddle froze and looked at her, frowning, "Why not?"

"You can't go in there," Hermione said, "You're a boy!"

"Well then, you go look," Riddle said as he backed away from the door.

"I will," Hermione nodded.

She opened the door and closed it in his inquisitive face. Once through the door, she closed her eyes. She listened for signs of movement and when she heard none, she slowly opened her eyes again. She walked into the nearly pitch black darkness and light her wand. She passed it over the room and when she didn't see the giant coils of the great snake, she walked toward the sinks. She found the one that was marked with a tiny serpent and frowned down at it. She ran her finger over the carving and sighed. She had not counted on this. She turned away and headed back toward the door. She reemerged from the bathroom and shook her head.

"There was no one in there," she replied.

"Are you sure?" Riddle asked.

"Yes," she snapped, "I checked everywhere."

Riddle frowned, "I swear I heard someone in there."

"Well, perhaps a visit to Madam Iona is in order," Hermione replied with a smirk.

She continued down the corridor and stopped when she noticed that Riddle wasn't with her. She turned around and felt the blood drain from her face when she found the corridor empty. She ran back down to the girls bathroom and threw the door open. Riddle was standing in the middle of the room, his head cocked to the side, listening.

"Riddle," she hissed, "Get out of here this instant!"

"Shush," Riddle replied firmly.

"Don't you shush me," Hermione huffed, "This is a _girls_ bathroom!"

"And there's no one in here, is there?" Riddle replied.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, "So what do you think you're doing?"

"I can hear someone talking, Granger," Riddle snapped, "And it's coming from in here."

"There's no one talking," Hermione shot back, "No one is in this room, now lets go."

Riddle glared at her and Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, jaw set. Riddle cast another glance about the room before he stocked past her. She followed after him, releasing the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

* * *

"We have a serious problem," Hermione announced as she entered the Room of Requirement. 

"What?" Ron asked.

She sighed and plopped down into the seat next to Ron. He put his arm over her shoulders and she allowed herself to snuggle against him. Harry gave her questioning green eyes.

"Last night on patrol duty," Hermione began, "Riddle heard a voice coming from the girls bathroom."

"What?" Harry asked, sure that he knew where the conversation was heading and dreading it.

"I couldn't hear anything," Hermione continued, confirming Harry's fears, "But he insisted that he heard someone, so I went in to check. There was no one in there. I started walking away and realised that he wasn't with me. He went into the girls bathroom, Harry."

"How far did he get?" Harry asked.

"Not far," Hermione sighed, "But he was listening. Do you think that the basilisk could be calling to him?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head, "But this isn't good."

"I know," Hermione replied, "Do you think...Do you think we could have moved things along?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head, "I just can't help feeling like we've hurt ourselves by trying to keep him away from the bathroom. Maybe if we hadn't tried so hard, he would have noticed the voice later on."

The boys remained silent.

"Maybe I should go down there and kill it," Harry said.

"How, exactly?" Hermione asked, "The sword isn't in my bag, Harry. The only things that were left in there were our clothes and a few of my books."

"How can that be?" Ron asked, "Why has everything gone missing?"

"Perhaps the things that have gone missing couldn't survive the time shift," Hermione suggested and then made a frustrated sound, "Oh, I just hate not knowing things!"

Ron smiled a bit at that, "So what is the new plan now that Riddle knows that something's off about that bathroom?"

"Could we maybe try some protective enchantments?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Hermione asked, sitting up.

"I don't know," Harry replied, "We could try and cast a Disillusionment Charm on the tap or something."

"Harry!" Hermione smiled, "That just might work! I'll do it right now."

With that, Hermione walked out of the room.

* * *

She checked her watch as she walked down the deserted corridors. It was well past curfew and even Prefects should have been back in their dormitories. She stood outside of the girls bathroom and cast a fervent glance down the corridor to make sure that no one was around before she ducked inside. She lit her wand tip and made her way over to the tap with the snake carved into it. She cast the Disillusionment Charm and headed toward the exit. She let out a squeal when she turned around. Riddle was standing behind her. 

"What are you doing?" She snapped.

"I could ask you the same question," Riddle replied, "What did you just do to that sink?"

"Nothing," Hermione glared, "I was just washing my hands."

"What are you doing out of bed, Granger?" Riddle asked.

"You are in no position to question me, Riddle," she replied, "You're out of bed when you shouldn't be, too. And, you're also in a girls lavatory. Get out."

Riddle advanced on her and she took in a sharp breath but held her ground. He glared down at her and she returned it.

"No one orders me about," Riddle said in a dangerous tone, "No one. You had better watch yourself, Hermione Granger."

"I'm not afraid of you, Riddle," Hermione replied and was surprised to find that she meant it, "You may have power over the rest of the students, but not over me."

"That can easily be changed," Riddle whispered.

"Don't threaten me," Hermione snapped.

"I know there's something not quite right about you and your little friends," Riddle replied, "And I intend to find out."

"There's something not right about _us_," Hermione scoffed, "Says the boy who hears voices and frequents the girls bathroom."

"_Cruci..._" Riddle began.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Hermione called.

Riddle's wand flew into her hand as he was thrown against the wall. He slid down the wall and gave her wide eyes. He quickly shut down the momentary surprise that had crossed his handsome features but it was too late. Hermione had seen. She smiled triumphantly as she held Riddle's wand in her hand. He clamoured to his feet and squared his shoulders, his face blank. He held out his hand to her.

"My wand," he said.

Hermione just blinked pleasantly at him, strolling toward the door, keeping her back against the wall and skirting around him as she did. She walked out of the bathroom. It wasn't long until she heard the door close and knew that Riddle had followed her. She turned and faced him, his wand still held tight in her hand.

"If I ever catch you in that bathroom again," Hermione said quietly, "I will do everything in my power to get you expelled. Am I perfectly understood?"

A dark look passed over Riddle's face and he thrust his hand out again, "My wand."

Hermione glared up at him, "Not until you promise me two things."

He blinked at her.

"One, you will not go into that bathroom while I am at this school," she stated, "And two, when I hand you your wand, you will not try to curse, jinx or otherwise bespell me in any way, shape or form."

Riddle scowled at her, "I promise."

Hermione smiled then and handed him his wand, handle first. He took it from her and gave her another long, dark look before he spun on his heel and walked toward the dungeons. Hermione let out a shaking breath as she watched his form disappear into the darkness. She closed her eyes and turned around, thanking the powers that be that she had such quick reflexes. As she walked, a reluctant smile split her lips. She had just confronted the future Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale.

* * *

The next day saw Hermione in a very chipper mood. Ron gaped at her and she looped her arm through his on the way to breakfast. 

"Hermione," Ron said, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ron," Hermione smiled, "I'm just in a good mood, thats all."

"It's frightening," Ron replied and she slapped him on the arm.

"Ow!" Ron said and frowned ever deeper when Hermione started humming, "May I ask why you're in such a good mood?"

"I'm just glad that I won't have to keep an eye on the girls bathroom anymore," she replied.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I cast the Disillusionment Charm on the tap," she answered, "And I made Riddle promise not to go in there again."

Ron stopped walking, "You did what?"

Hermione turned toward him, "I put a Disillusionment Char..."

"Yes, I heard that bit," Ron interrupted, "But I could almost swear that I head you say that you made Riddle promise not to go into the bathroom."

"Well, I did," Hermione frowned at him.

"When did this happen?" Ron asked.

"Last night," Hermione said, "After I put the Disillusionment Charm on the tap, I turned around and found Riddle standing behind me."

Ron's jaw dropped open.

"Anyway, we had a row," Hermione continued, "And he tried to curse me, but I disarmed him."

"HE DID WHAT?!" Ron roared, causing several passing students to look at them.

"It's fine," Hermione shushed him, "I handled it."

"But he could have hurt you," Ron retorted.

"I handled it, Ron," Hermione snapped, "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"What do you mean, 'shouldn't have told me?'" Ron hissed, "I'm angry that you didn't tell me last night!"

"No, I shouldn't have told you because I knew you'd act..." Hermione started, but Ron interrupted.

"Act like what?" He asked.

"Like _this_!" She hissed, "I knew you'd get angry and possibly do something rash..."

"Like what?" Ron huffed.

"Like challenge Riddle to a duel," Hermione snipped and Ron's eyes hardened.

Hermione stepped back, a malicious grin on her face, "I was right, wasn't I?"

Ron didn't say anything but started walking again. Hermione grabbed his arm and he wheeled around to face her.

"Wasn't I?" She looked at his face and sighed, "Oh, Ron, that would have been so stupid..."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Ron asked.

"Let it be," Hermione said.

"How can I, Hermione?" Ron asked, "He tried to hurt you."

"Yes," Hermione said, feeling heat creep up her face, "And I took care of it. Honestly, Ron, I'm not helpless!"

"I never said..." Ron said.

"No, you never _said_ it, but you think it often enough," Hermione burst out angrily.

"No I don't," Ron challenged.

"Ballocks!" Hermione said and Ron gaped at her, "If that were true, why do you always have to go charging away and try to do something stupid?"

"Name one time I've done that," Ron asked.

"Hmm, let me think," Hermione said sarcastically, "There was the time when Malfoy called me Mudblood and you tried to curse him with slugs."

"Well I'm so sorry that I want to defend you honour, Hermione," Ron hissed.

"I don't need you to defend my honour!" She said, "I can take care of myself!"

"Could have fooled me," Ron replied.

"What?" Hermione glared.

"I said, you could have fooled me," Ron said smoothly, "It sure didn't look like it when we were at the Malfoy's."

There came a resounding _smack_ as Ron's head snapped to the side. Hermione backed up several steps, eyes wide as she stared at her own hand. Ron turned toward her slowly. His cheek was red where her hand had made contact with it. His blue eyes were hard as he looked at her. He turned around and started walking away.

"Ron..." Hermione whispered as she ran after him, "Ron, wait! I'm sorry! I didn't mean...Ron!"

She grabbed his arm and he shrugged it out of her grip as he continued to walk away from her.

"Ron!" She called, "Ron, please!"

He rounded a corner and was gone. Hermione felt the hot sting of tears burn at her eyes. She sniffed and fled into the nearest bathroom.


	5. A New Plan

**AN: **A big thank you to **Slytherin ice princess**, **The Speed of Darkness**, **ricekrispies**, **teacher123**, **stsgirlie** and **jessica.boc** for all of the reviews, alerts and favourite adds! It means so much!

**Chapter 5: A New Plan:**

Hermione closed the door of the stall behind her as she wiped her eyes. She was furious with herself for acting so harshly toward Ron. She knew she had been wrong, that he had always had her safety in mind. It was because he loved her. She slumped over the sink and stared down into the white porcelain. She turned the tap and collected the cold water in her cupped hands. She saw her reflection ripple in the water before she splashed it over her face. She looked into the mirror that hung over the sink and in a fit of self contempt, she thrust her fist into the glass.

Pain shot across her fist like lightning and she bit back a scream. The glass was splintered where her fist had made contact with it, her blood marking the point of impact. She looked down at her injured hand and pointed her wand at her torn and rapidly swelling flesh.

"_Episkey_," she muttered and her skin mended itself, but the pain was still there.

She had broken her hand. She sighed and decided to make a stop at the Hospital Wing for a proper mending, but there was other damage that she had to see to first. She looked up at the mirror and saw her blood tracing the splinters in the glass slowly. She cast Tergeo to clear the blood from the mirror before repairing it. Her hand throbbed and she winced against the pain. She walked out of the bathroom toward the Hospital Wing.

"What happened to your hand, Granger?" came the unpleasant voice of Riddle from behind her.

She ignored him and continued down the corridor. A dark shadow crossed over her outstretch hand and she turned to see Riddle walking next to her. She snapped her head to the front and kept walking.

"I saw Wazlib storm into the Great Hall," Riddle commented casually, "Had a nasty red mark on his face, almost like he'd been slapped. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Riddle eyed her swollen hand but Hermione kept her mouth shut and her eyes in front of her.

"That looks nasty," Riddle continued, "Judging by the state of your hand coupled with the mark on Wazlib I can only conclude that you two had a row? Am I right?"

"Go away, Riddle," Hermione said shortly.

"Oo, not very friendly," Riddle smirked, "So what did you two argue about?"

A hard, scalding knot formed in her chest and she wheeled around on him. Riddle gazed down at her, his dark blue eyes pleasant and full of a nefarious sort of delectation at her obvious misery. Her brown eyes were hard and she let her malice for him show through. His dark eyebrows furrowed but his overall expression didn't change.

"You had better be lucky that my hand is broken, Riddle," she spat, "Or you'd get the same thing."

"Is that a threat?" Riddle asked darkly.

"No," Hermione replied menacingly, "It's a promise. Now, you stay away from me."

With the last, Hermione continued down the hall and descended the staircase. Riddle stood in the middle of the hallway and watched her disappear, a weird sort of tingling beginning in the pit of his stomach. He frowned at the sensation, trying desperately to quell the pleasant warmth that accompanied it. He closed his eyes and her angry, but lovely face was etched in his memory. The tingling warmth grew and spread and for the very first time in his life, Tom Riddle allowed himself to smile.

* * *

Hermione emerged from the Hospital Wing a mere two minuets after entering it. Madam Iona had made quick work of her injured hand and Hermione smiled as she opened and closed her mended fist. She then decided that she should find Ron and apologise. She checked her watch. It was nearly lunch and so, she walked downstairs and into the Great Hall. She saw Harry sitting alone at the Slytherin table and walked over to him.

He looked up when he saw her approach and his eyes were instantly filled with concern.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked and she smiled at his amazing intuition.

"Have you seen Ron?" she asked.

"No," Harry frowned, "No, I haven't. Why?"

"I've made a mess of things, Harry," she sighed.

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

"Walk with me," Hermione said as she got nasty looks from the other Slytherins as they sat down.

Harry rose form the table and followed Hermione out of the Great Hall. They walked out of the front doors onto the grounds. It was a nice day, neither too warm nor too cold. The sky was a bright, pale blue and soft white clouds drifted by every so often. They walked in silence for a minuet before Hermione began.

"Ron and I had a row," Hermione said, "And, well, it sort of escalated and I...I slapped him."

Harry looked at her and she sighed.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry," Hermione said, "I know that it was wrong of me. I feel simply dreadful. Anyway, he stalked off and I haven't seen him since. I was hoping you would have seen him."

"I haven't seen him since last night," Harry replied, "Do you reckon we should try and find him?"

"I wouldn't know where to look," Hermione said, "Somehow, I don't think he'll make it easy for me to find him. I don't know what came over me. I didn't mean to do it and I regretted it straight away, but when I tried to apologise, he just walked away...though, I can't say I blame him, really."

Fresh tears bit at her eyes and she tried to fight them away. Harry put his arm over her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but it only set her off. The tears escaped her eyes and she sobbed lightly. They stopped walking and Harry hugged her.

"I'm such an idiot," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll cool down soon," Harry replied, "He always does."

"I don't think he will," Hermione said, "We said some pretty awful things to each other."

"He forgave you for setting that flock of birds on him, didn't he?" Harry said, trying to be reassuring.

"I suppose he did," Hermione nodded, "I shouldn't have done it! He was only trying to protect me."

"Protect you from what?" Harry asked, looking down at her.

She went stiff in his arms and looked up at him, "Do you promise you won't be angry with me or try to charge off?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed but he nodded, "I promise."

Hermione took a deep breath and backed away from him, "Last night, when I put the Disillusionment Charm on the tap in the girls bathroom, Riddle was behind me. We argued and he tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, but I disarmed him. Anyway, I told Ron this morning and he...well, you know how he gets..."

Harry nodded at the last bit.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, "That's what our fight was about. I told him that I wasn't helpless...and...and we were nasty to each other. I just want to find him and apologise. I know that he did it because he loves me, but then I had to go and muck it about."

"It will be alright, Hermione," Harry said, "In the end, he'll come around. Don't worry too much about it. About Riddle..."

"I told him to stay away from me," Hermione said.

Harry snorted, causing Hermione to look at him, "You don't honestly believe that he will, do you?"

"No," Hermione replied with narrowed eyes, "He's absolutely insufferable!"

"That's not the word I would use," Harry smiled, "Just, be careful, Hermione. He seems to have taken quite a shine to you."

Hermione scoffed and Harry put a hand on her shoulder, startling her into looking at him. His eyes were somber.

"I'm serious, Hermione," Harry replied.

"I know," Hermione admitted, "I don't understand why, but..."

"I think I know," Harry smiled.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"You were immune to his charming facade," Harry replied, "And you challenged him. I'm sure that no other girl at this school had done that yet. You're a threat."

"What are you trying to say, Harry?" Hermione asked, afraid of the answer.

"I think I know how we can stop him," Harry smiled.

"Harry, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking..." Hermione began.

"Come on, Hermione, think about it!" Harry said, "What was the one thing that he has never experienced? What was the one thing that Dumbledore always said would be the key to destroying him?"

"Harry, no..." Hermione shook her head, "No..."

Harry gripped her arms gently, an excited smiled playing over his face, "This could be it, Hermione! This could be the key to stopping him!"

"Harry, I can't..." Hermione replied, trying to pull away from him, "I won't..."

"You can," Harry said, "I know you can."

"No, I can't," Hermione said firmly, "Harry, I couldn't possibly! Ron..."

"Ron will understand!" Harry said.

Hermione finally managed to pull out of Harry's grip. She stepped backwards several feet and looked at him as if she had never seen him before.

"No," Hermione said, "No, he will definitely not understand. How could you even suggest...?"

"He fancies you, Hermione," Harry replied, "I know he does and we could use that against him!"

Hermione gaped at him, "I can't believe I'm hearing this!"

"Please, Hermione," Harry begged, "It may be our only chance..."

"I came to you for help with Ron," Hermione said, "Ron, your best friend, my _boyfriend_. I came to you to help me try and find him so I could apologise and here you go, basically telling me to leave things broken between us so I could go and seduce the future Dark Lord! Do you understand how selfish that sounds?"

"Is it selfish of me to be thinking of our future, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, "No. No, you're right."

Hermione frowned slightly at the note of sarcasm in his voice.

"I am being selfish," Harry said again with a bitter laugh, "I was only thinking of trying to save Sirius and Dumbledore, and my mum and dad..."

"Harry...," Hermione said gently, taking a step toward him.

"Of Tonk's dad," Harry continued, green eyes blazing, "Of Dobby and Hedwig. Mad-Eyed Moody, Cedric, Neville's parents, of Ginny..."

Harry's voice faltered a bit at the last, "How absolutely horrid of me to think about saving all of them."

Hermione was crying again. She looked into his set face and then away toward the dark line that was the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She closed her eyes and saw Ron's hurt, cold expression and felt her chest contract. Her eyes opened and she fixed Harry with a glance full of mixed feelings.

"What if you're wrong?" Hermione whispered.

"I'm not," Harry replied, knowing in his heart that it was true, "Please, Hermione. Think of all of the people we could save..."

"Alright," Hermione choked out, "Alright. I'll do it but you have to promise me that you'll tell Ron."

"I will," Harry nodded.

"And make sure that he knows that I was against it," Hermione continued, "And that I...that I'm sorry."

"Hermione," Harry shook his head at her words. She was talking as if she were expecting to drop dead at any moment, "You're not dying..."

"Says you," Hermione replied before she turned her back on him and began the long walk back to the castle.


	6. Forgive and Let Go

**AN: **Thank you to**stsgirlie**, **Amaquieria**, **ricekrispies** and **x-Magic-Is-Might-x** for the reviews, alerts and favourite adds! You guys are amazing!

**Chapter 6: Forgive and Let Go:**

_2 May, 1998 (1:37 a.m.)_

McGonagall raced down the second floor corridor. A jet of red light whizzed past her head and collided with the wall behind her. Rubbled rained down around her. She turned and faced the direction that the curse had originated from. A large, masked figure stood down the hall toward the left. She poised her wand and prepared to fire her curse when the Death Eater's body began to grow transparent. McGonagall gaped at the rapidly fading figure as the Death Eater let out a panicked yelp. She blinked and opened her eyes to an empty corridor. The Death Eater had gone.

The masked Death Eater reappeared in his home, no longer wearing his Death Eater robes, but normal ones. His face was blank as he looked around his house. What had he just been doing? He looked at his raised wand arm and frowned. With a shrug, he turned and exited the room, deciding that he was hungry.

_27 September, 1941 (10:15 a.m.)_

Hermione cast a longing glance in Ron's direction. He was seated on the opposite side of the classroom next to some other Gryffindor girl in their year. He was still angry with her, a week on. Harry was sitting next to Riddle who was giving him instructions on how best to brew the potion they were supposed to be making. Professor Slughorn walked among them, inspecting their progress. He stopped when he came to Hermione and beamed at her already simmering concoction.

"Well done, Miss Granger," He boomed, his walrus moustache twitching in delight, "That is the exact shade of maroon that is required."

Hermione sighed and nodded her head at him, hardly paying attention. She could feel someone watching her and she looked up just in time to see Ron look away. A small smile tugged at her lips before she noticed that Riddle, too, had been looking at her. As she caught his eyes, her smile faded and she looked away quickly.

"Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn said, "I would like a word with you after class, if you please. You too, Mr. Riddle."

Hermione's face hardened when she heard Slughorn address Riddle as well.

"That's it!" Slughorn said, "Your potions should be done by now! Everyone bottle a sample to be tested."

There was a rustle of robes as students rummaged in their bags for the testing vials. Hermione carefully ladled some of her potion into a vial and labelled it with her name and house. She had not had a partner this class. She emptied her cauldron and walked over to Slughorn's desk. She placed her vial on his desk and turned around, running into someone as she did. She looked up and saw Ron looking down at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut. He side-stepped her and turned in his work.

Hermione's chest ached at his aloofness and walked back to her table to collect her belongings. The bell sounded shortly after and the students filled out of the classroom, leaving it empty save for her, Professor Slughorn and Riddle. She approached his desk wearily and tried her very best to keep away from Riddle.

"Sit down, sit down," Professor Slughorn called merrily and they obeyed, "I have asked you two to stay on because I would like to extend and invitation to you both."

Hermione bit back the groan that she had felt beginning in her throat. She knew what he was about to ask them.

"You see," Slughorn continued, "I have been watching your progress during my classes and have found you both to be quite capable in magic. Therefore, I would like to invite you to join a little group I like to call the Slug Club."

Hermione slumped a little lower in her chair and thought of Ron. She remembered how he had been horrible put off about not being invited to Slughorn's parties.

"Thank you very much, Professor," Riddle replied, "I would be honoured to be a part of such a prestiges group."

"Naturally," Slughorn beamed, "I know you have the potential for greatness in you, Mr. Riddle. And you, Miss Granger?"

"I'm afraid I must decline your generous offer, Professor," Hermione replied.

Slughorn looked at her as if she had sprouted another head.

"I would rather like to focus on my academics and my duties as a Prefect," Hermione continued, "But thank you for considering me."

With that, Hermione stood and walked out of the room, ignoring the intrigued look she caught in Riddle's eyes.

Harry caught up with her on her way to the library and fell into step beside her.

"What did Slughorn want?" Harry asked.

"He invited Riddle and I to join that ridiculous Slug Club," Hermione replied, "But I declined."

"What?" Harry asked, "Why?"

"It reminded me too much of Ron," Hermione replied honestly, "Has he been talking to you?"

"We don't really have the chance," Harry said, "You know, different houses and such. Anyway, I've noticed that you haven't been working on the plan."

Hermione froze mid step. Harry stumbled from the abruptness of it.

"I don't know what to do, Harry," she sighed and continued to walk.

"Just...just try and be a bit friendlier to him," Harry suggested, "Like, when you catch him staring don't glower at him like you do."

"I don't glower at him," Hermione said.

Harry gave her a look and she shook her head, "At least I don't mean to. It's just that...he angers me, the whole air of him."

"I know how you feel, Hermione," Harry said.

"No, you don't," Hermione replied harshly, "You have no idea."

"Then tell me," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head and crossed to a window that looked out over the grounds. She could just make out a slice of the Black Lake from her vantage point. She stared at the dark shadows of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Harry joined her, leaning against the small ledge under the window.

"I miss Ron," Hermione said softly, "I want to talk to him again, to apologise for what I did. And I don't want to do this whole business with Riddle. He's dangerous and I know that. Maybe if I didn't feel so guilty about Ron, or if I didn't know what Riddle will become, maybe that would make everything easier. But I do feel guilty and I do know and I just...I just wish that none of this ever happened."

Harry looked at her resigned profile and didn't know what to say. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "But if I thought that anything else would work, I'd do it. But I can't see any alternative and believe me, I've tried to come up with an alternate plan."

Hermione pressed her forehead against the cool glass and looked at her hands.

"If I help you apologise to Ron, do you think it might help the matter a bit?" Harry asked.

"No," Hermione replied, "But it would be nice."

Harry smiled, "Alright, meet me in the Room of Requirement at seven. I'll get Ron to go and then you can apologise and I can explain the plan to him."

Hermione looked over at Harry and he offered her a reassuring smile. She didn't think that explaining the plan to Ron just after she apologised was the best of ideas, but it was the only way that she could foresee getting it done. She nodded once and Harry smiled again, turning around to try and find Ron. She watched him disappear down the stairs and turned her attention back to the grounds. A dark cloud passed over the sun, casting dark shadows over the grounds and Hermione's already dark mood.

* * *

Hermione purposely dawdled a bit as she watched the hands of her watch tick the minuets away. Five minuets past seven should have been enough time for Harry to get Ron into the room. She peeked around the corner and ducked back as she saw Ron and Harry coming from the opposite end. Harry paced in front of the wall and the door opened for them and he and Ron disappeared inside. She took a deep breath and walked over to the wall. She did what she needed to and hurried inside.

Ron froze in mid-motion, crouching over the sofa and Harry looked over his shoulder at her. Ron looked between the two of them and his face hardened.

"I see what this is," Ron said, "Well, done, mate."

"Ron," Harry said, "Just, sit down and listen."

Ron glared at Harry and started toward the door. Hermione stepped in front of him, her face set and determined to say what she needed to say. Ron glared down his nose at her and she just looked back up at him.

"Move," he said.

"No," Hermione shook her head, "Not until you listen to what I have to say."

"Ron," Harry called again, "Please, sit."

Ron stalked toward the sofa again and sat down on it, his arms crossed, face set. Hermione smiled at Harry and crossed over to join them. She decided that it was best to sit next to Harry so she could look at Ron, directly.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry that I slapped you," Hermione said, trying to catch his eye, "I...I didn't mean it."

"Felt like you did to me," Ron replied.

Hermione jerked as if he had just slapped her. She started crying and Ron immediately looked uncomfortable. He uncrossed his arms and looked at Harry who only shrugged. She turned her teary face to Ron again and flung herself across the small distance between them. Ron caught her in his arms and she hugged him to her, burying her face in his shoulder. Ron patter her back with one hand and continued to look at Harry for help.

"I'm so...so sorry Ron," she sobbed, "Please don't be angry with me anymore. I can't stand not being able to talk to you!"

"Er, 'mione," Ron gasped, "Ur cho'in me!"

"Oh," Hermione said, loosening her grip, "I'm sorry!"

"It's alright," Ron sputtered to Harry's roaring laughter.

Hermione looked at him meekly, "Do you forgive me?"

Ron looked back at her and smiled, "Yeah, I forgive you. I was a bit of a prat, anyway."

She hugged him again and he returned it with a smile.

"Now that we're all patched up," Harry said and Hermione went tense, "I came up with a new plan on how to stop Riddle."

Hermione eased up a bit. At least Harry had set himself up to take the blame.

"Much to Hermione's chagrin, she has agreed to go along with the plan," Harry said.

"What plan?" Ron asked, wearily.

"I think that Riddle, well, that is to say, I think Riddle had taken interest in Hermione," Harry said softly.

Ron looked at Hermione who would not meet his eyes, "Go on."

"So I though, that maybe she could...entice him into liking her," Harry continues.

"You mean you want Hermione to try and make Riddle fall in love with her?" Ron asked flatly and Hermione winced at the plainness it.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, the first edge of worry in his green eyes, "It may just work."

Ron leaned back against the couch and looked between Harry and Hermione. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. He took her hand in his which startled her so much she jumped. She turned frightened eyes toward Ron who smiled gently, easing her panic.

"Are you okay with this?" Ron asked.

"I...what?" Hermione gaped, completely unprepared for this reaction from Ron.

"Are you okay with this plan?" Ron asked again.

"I'm not fond of the idea," Hermione replied truthfully, "But Harry's made it very plain that he thinks this might be the only thing that will work."

"It makes sense," Ron nodded, "Dumbledore always said that love was something Riddle never understood."

Hermione stared at Ron in plain shock of what she was hearing. She had been expecting yelling, anger, and hostility, not consent.

"You're okay with this?" Hermione asked.

Ron sat up again and looked her in the eye. He gripped her hand tighter and sighed.

"You were right," Ron said softly, "I think I always have thought that you needed protecting, in the back of my mind. But you can do this, Hermione. I know you can."

"Ron..." Hermione started but he forestalled her.

"I think..." Ron began, but he had to stop. He cleared his throat loudly before he could continue, "Hermione, I think...you and I...you and I are better off as friends."

Hermione's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat, "Are you...are you breaking up with me...?"

"It's not you," Ron said, patting her hand lightly, "It's me."

She knew that he was just trying to be funny, so she gave him a smile while inside it felt as though someone had taken a knife and ran it through her heart, twisting it around a bit for good measure. Ron took his hand away from her and stood up, faking a large yawn.

"Well, I'm knackered," Ron said at the tail-end of the yawn, "I think I'll head off to the dormitory now. I'll see you two in the morning."

And with that, he disappeared out of the room. Hermione sat on the couch, feeling strangely empty, staring down at her hands. She could still feel the warmth of Ron's hand where it had rested on hers. She balled that hand into a fist and looked at Harry.

"Will you be okay?" Harry asked her softly.

She looked away from his empathetic eyes in an attempt to not break down again. Instead, she looked at the empty mantle piece above the fireplace. The room had decorated the mantle with a phoenix, just for them. She looked at the bird, which was carved into a deep cherry stained wood and thought of all of those that they had left behind and how it was up to them to try and save them all.

"He did it to make it easier, didn't he?" she asked Harry in a small voice.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"I thought so," Hermione breathed, "It didn't work."

"But he tried," Harry offered, "So please, don't make his effort in vain."

She looked back at him and nodded, "I won't. I'll do it. I'll make it work...somehow."


	7. A Fooled Heart

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86, omega13a **and** irene0222 **for the reviews, alerts and favourites! 1000 hits so far for this fic! It makes me so happy! Here's where things start to get interesting!

**Chapter 7: A Fooled Heart:**

The beginning of October saw cold, windy days. Despite the dismal weather, Hermione felt better than she had in weeks. Ron was talking to her again and she had more of a mind to set the plan into action. It was on Saturday, the fifth of October, that Hermione's good cheer rose. She and Ron had just passed a sign nailed to the oak front doors and the pair of them stopped to read it. Hermione smiled up at it and Ron groaned.

_Attention all fifth, sixth and seventh years!_

_On Friday, 31 October, there will be a masquerade dance in the Great Hall. Food, drink and live entertainment will be provided. Dress robes and masks are required! Please note that there will be a Hogsmeade trip on the following Saturday to allow students to purchase the necessary attire. No foolishness will be permitted! Younger students may be invited._

"Really?" Ron whined, "Did they have to?"

"Oh, come on, Ron," Hermione beamed up at him, "Now is your chance to make up for fourth year!"

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you," Ron replied, "I didn't even dance last time..."

"That's because you were too busy being jealous," Hermione teased.

"I don't have anything to wear," Ron smiled triumphantly.

"Not so fast, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, "Er, Wazlib, I meant...I still have our dress robes from the wedding."

"Bugger," Ron said, "Well, if you really want to go..."

"Yes, I really want to go!" Hermione smiled.

Ron squinted at the parchment again and smiled, "AH HA! But it says here that we have to wear masks! I don't suppose you have any of those in that bag of yours, do you?"

Hermione, too, reread the parchment, "Haha! There is a Hogsmeade trip organised for the weekend before!"

Ron looked crestfallen, "But we haven't got permission to go...do we?"

Hermione frowned, "That's easy enough to find out. We can ask Dumbledore whether or not our parents sent one along with the rest of the paper work that Dippet received on us."

Ron sighed, defeated, "Alright. If we have permission, I'll go with you."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione smiled, "I need to polish off my Ancient Runes essay so I'll see you at lunch."

"Okay," Ron nodded and disappeared into the Great Hall for breakfast.

As she turned around, she saw Riddle push himself away from the wall opposite the grand staircase and she fought back a frown. He fell into step beside her and together they ascended the stairs to the first floor. She continued to walk along, quite aware of his presence.

"What do you want, Riddle?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

"I noticed that Wazlib is talking to you again," Riddle replied, "You two've kissed and made up?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Hermione said, still conversationally, "But we've decided we're better off as friends."

"I see," Riddle replied, "How very pragmatic of you."

Hermione snorted, "You never answered my question."

"I also noticed that there is a masquerade dance on Halloween," Riddle said lightly.

"So there is," Hermione nodded, goosebumps beginning to form on her skin.

"I saw that you and Wazlib were talking about it," Riddle said, casting her a sideways glance.

She felt his eyes on her and she smirked a little, "We were."

Riddle fell silent for a moment as they turned down a narrow corridor. Hermione held her tongue, waiting for him to speak first.

"Are you going?" Riddle asked.

Hermione smiled, she couldn't help it, "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Riddle said.

Hermione stopped walking and faced him. Riddle looked down at her, his eyebrows raised a touch. She allowed herself to smile a bit at him and his eyebrows shot up a bit more. She turned back around without saying anything and continued down the corridor. It was several seconds before Riddle appeared at her side again.

"You never answered my question," Riddle said, using her own words against her.

"How right you are," Hermione said, "I am, with Ron."

"Of course," Riddle replied and Hermione could almost swear that she heard a note of dejection in his voice.

"But as friends," she continued.

"So it's not a date," Riddle asked casually.

"Not really," Hermione replied, "Are you going?"

"No," Riddle replied.

Hermione frowned a bit. She hadn't expected that.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I.." Riddle's voice faltered, taken aback by the question, "School dances bore me."

"Have you ever been to one before," Hermione pressed.

"Well," Riddle frowned, "No..."

"Then how can you say they bore you?" Hermione asked.

Riddle looked at her profile. She was still looking straight ahead. He felt the weird tingling again as he stared at her.

"I can't go," Riddle replied finally.

"Why?" Hermione asked, determined to make him crack.

"I don't have dress robes," Riddle answered.

"There's a Hogsmeade trip the weekend before," Hermione retorted, "You can get dress robes then."

Defeated again. Riddle frowned. He was running out of plausible excuses not to go.

"In fact," Hermione stopped again, "Why don't you come with Ron, Harry and I when we go?"

"You're inviting me into Hogsmeade with you?" Riddle asked, positively stunned.

"Yes," Hermione smiled again, surprised by just how easy it was to be nice to him. It certainly made her feel better, "You can go into Hogsmeade, can't you?"

"Yes," Riddle answered, "I had the orphanage director sign the slip."

"Well then, it's settled," Hermione beamed, "You're going to come with us to Hogsmeade."

"I," Riddle faltered again, "Alright."

"Great," Hermione smiled as she disappeared into the library.

* * *

"You did what?!" Ron yelled, causing some of the first years to cower in their seats. 

They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room. They occupied two overstuffed chairs in a corner of the room, a little apart from everyone else. They had kept the conversation relatively quite, until Ron's little outburst. Hermione glanced around the room and then back at Ron, leaning a bit closer to him.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione whispered, "You know the plan. You even approved, however shocking that was."

"Harry said _you_ had to be nice to him," Ron reminded her, "Not the whole lot of us."

"Thank you for the support, Ron," she sighed, "It really is tragic, though. He's been alone his whole life, with no real friends."

"That's because he's been a real..." Ron began, but Hermione talked over him.

"Anyway," she said sternly, "I think it would be a good idea if we show him what real friendship is like. You know, to show him what he's been missing."

"Kill him with kindness," Ron smiled, "Brilliant!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Whatever you like. So are you going to try to be nice to him?"

"I suppose," Ron nodded, "It'll be tough, though."

"I have faith in you," Hermione smiled.

"That makes one of us," Ron replied and Hermione laughed.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood off to the side of the oak front doors, waiting for Riddle. Hermione was fidgeting nervously and Harry smirked as he watched her twisting her scarf in her gloved hands. 

"Nervous?" Harry asked.

"No," Hermione replied, ceasing her hands, "Oh, what if he's changed his mind?"

"I asked him if he was coming this morning," Harry replied, "He said yes."

"Then where is he?" Hermione asked, rising to her tiptoes to try and spot him over the pooling throng of the other students.

"There he is," Ron pointed.

Indeed, the tall, thin frame of Tom Riddle was making his way toward them through the other students, who all seemed to shrink away from him. He was dressed in his uniform and Hermione frowned at him. A Slytherin scarf was wound around his neck and he wore black gloves. He stopped in front of them and nodded at Harry and Ron. Hermione offered him a smile.

"Are you ready to go?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Riddle replied.

They joined the queue and soon they were past the front doors and into the brisk October air. The sun was out and it was a clear day, nary a cloud in the sky. A light breeze tugged at them and Hermione huddled into her coat as they made their way to the school gates. It was odd to walk this way and not see Hagrid's old hut, with its chimney smoking. They passed through the gates and started on the long walk down to Hogsmeade.

The village itself was radically different from the one they were used to. The Shrieking Shack had not been built yet and a rather surly, plump looking woman stood outside of the Three Broomsticks in place of Madam Rosmerta. Hermione and the others walked past it, down High Street and into a packed Gladrags Wizardwear. They pushed their way into the shop, trending on a few feet as they did so. Girls grouped near the back where some of the most beautiful dress robes Hermione had ever seen were on display. There were a couple of boys laughing as they tried on different masks, some in the shape of magical creatures.

"We'll just be...somewhere else," Harry said as he dragged Ron with him into the crowd.

Hermione watched her two friends get swallowed up by the mob of students and turned her attention back to the display of masks. Riddle stumbled after her.

"Aren't you going to look for dress robes?" she asked.

"I'd rather find a mask that I like first," Riddle replied.

Hermione shrugged and filled the gap at the display that two Ravenclaw students had just vacated. Her mouth opened in wonder at all of the different styles and colours that were available. Then, she saw it, the most beautiful mask that she had ever seen. It was a stunning butterfly half-mask made of intricate metal and Austrian crystals. It was a pale ice blue with silver accents that would compliment her lilac dress robes nicely. She pulled it down and checked on Riddle's progress. She bit back a laugh at the hopelessly lost look on his face. Clearly, he was not in his element.

"See anything you like?" Hermione asked.

"Not particularly," Riddle replied, his face becoming a pleasant blank upon being addressed.

Hermione frowned. He sure didn't like anyone seeing his emotions. He shut his face down whenever he thought someone was looking or whenever he caught himself slipping. She had seen it though, the helpless look in his eyes and she couldn't help the pity that grew in her mind. How horrible it must be to think that showing how you feel was a sign of weakness. How absolutely tiering it must be, to try and keep your face blank and guarded at all times.

She reached for his hand, almost without thinking. Her hand hesitated for a nanosecond before she completed the motion. Her hand closed around his and his head snapped toward her, his eyes on their joined hands, brows knitted together in confusion. He closed his face down again. Hermione pulled him through the crowd, pretending that she hadn't seen his lapse of control.

"There are some more over here," she called back to him, leading him toward another, smaller display of masks.

The masks here were of a more modest verity than the ones they had just seen. These masks seemed more his style. She realised that she still had his hand in her's and decided to see how long it took for him to notice. She didn't have to wait long. He looked down at their still joined hands and cleared his throat. For a moment, Hermione thought she saw the lightest tinge of pink flushed across his high cheeks. She decided it was a trick of the light and smiled as she released his hand, disguising the motion by reaching for a mask and handing it to him.

"Try that one," she suggested.

Tom took the mask from her gently and surveyed it. It was a plain looking thing, not too gaudy in design. It was a half-mask, made of a rich green leather that had serpentine silver markings added in places. He looked at Hermione who smiled at him.

"Go on," she urged, "Try it on."

Feeling quite ridiculous, but being careful not to let it show, Tom raised the mask to his face and tied the black silk ribbon behind his head to hold it in place. The mask was big enough on top to just hide his eyebrows but small enough on the bottom to rest lightly against his cheek bones. He looked at Hermione to see an odd expression on her face.

"That looks..." she began, "Really fantastic."

Tom untied the ribbon and pulled the mask off, "I felt absurd wearing that thing."

"Why?" Hermione asked, "It suits you."

"It does?" Tom asked, looking down at the mask he held in his hands.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "In a very Slytherin sort of way."

The corner of Tom's mouth twitched upward, "I suppose it does."

"So you're getting that one, then?" Hermione asked.

He nodded.

"Now we just have to find you some dress robes to match," Hermione proclaimed, taking his hand again.

They made their way to a less crowded corner of the room which held the wizard's robes. There were only about ten boys milling around. Hermione thumbed through the robes and looked for some that would work with the mask Tom had decided upon. She found some nice looking emerald green ones and shoved them at him. She also pulled out a bog standard pair of black ones, just in case. Tom held the robes in his arms, the mask dangling from the tips of his long fingers.

"Erm," he began and Hermione looked up at him, "Granger, I was wondering..."

"Yes?" She asked, adding a black and green trimmed robe to the pile in his arms, just for another option.

"Would you maybe like to..." Tom started, "Would you like to accompany me to the masquerade?"

* * *

"So you're going with Riddle, then?" Ron asked that night in the Room of Requirement. 

"He asked me," Hermione said by way of reply.

"So you're going with Riddle, then?" Ron repeated.

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"So I have to find a different date now?" Ron asked.

"I suppose so," Hermione smiled, "You could always ask Professor McGonagall to go. We all know how well you two dance together."

Ron shuddered at the memory, "Avada Kedavra me now."

"Just think of it this way," Harry added, "She's not a professor just yet."

"And who are you taking, Harry?" Ron shot at him, "Moaning Myrtle?"

"I actually considered her," Harry answered.

Ron gaped at him.

"I'm only joking," Harry laughed, "Though, she is a right side better than the girl who's been tailing me since the notice was put up."

"Who?" Hermione asked, interest peeked.

"She's some Slytherin girl in our year," Harry waved it off, "I think her name is Olive Hornby."

Ron made a face, "Is she that large girl with the stringy brown hair?"

"That's the one," Harry nodded, making his own face, "Of course there is also Druella Rosier."

"She looks like a Malfoy," Ron replied.

"I think she eventually has one," Harry said, his eyes screwed up in thought, "Yeah, she's Narcissa's mum. I remember her name from the Black family tree."

"So who are you going to take, Harry," Hermione asked.

"It's not important," Harry replied, "What is important is what you're going to do about Riddle."

"I'm going to the dance with him!" Hermione said, "Isn't that enough?"

"For the time being," Harry nodded.

"Thank you for helping me with him, by the way," Hermione said, "He really seemed to enjoy going into the Three Broomsticks with us."

"How could you tell," Ron asked, "He still looked like he had a bowtruckle stuck up his ar..."

"I don't think anyone's ever invited him to go to Hogsmeade with them before," Hermione continued.

"Imagine that," Ron rolled his eyes, "He's a real ball of cheer, that one."

"It sounds to me like you're starting to pity him, Hermione," Harry smiled.

"Well of course I do!" Hermione said, "He's been alone his whole life. It's no wonder why he never learnt how to make friends. Harry, you should know how it feels to be alienated by people."

"I do," Harry nodded, "And I saw how hard his life was first hand, Hermione. Even though I denied it when Dumbledore asked me, I did pity him. But he chose to be that way."

"I don't think he did," Hermione shook her head, "I think that no one ever gave him the chance..."

"Well I am now," Harry replied, "And apparently it's working."

Hermione sighed, "It seems to be, his control over his face slipped three times this afternoon."

"Brilliant," Harry smiled, "Just keep up the good work, Hermione."


	8. Everything Changes

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **o0ohahahao0o**and **MagZ86** for the reviews, alerts and favourites! The song that I will be using in this chapter is called _As The World Falls Down_ by David Bowie from the fantastically 80s movie Labyrinth. I guess you can say that this chapter is a song chapter. Anyone who has seen that movie should understand the references made to it in the following chapter! And to any of you people who haven't seen Labyrinth, I suggest you do. It's off to the masquerade we go!

**Chapter 8: Everything Changes:**

Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror. She frowned at the other girls as they left the dormitory. All of their dress robes were flattering and classy in style, leaving just enough to the imagination. She looked down at her floaty lilac robes and felt very ostentatious. She should have taken the time difference into consideration. Her robes were far too puffy and showed too much skin compared to the other girls. Her robes were cut in and off the shoulder fashion. She sighed knowing that there was nothing to be done about the matter now. She adjusted her mask and walked down to the common room to meet Ron and whoever it was that he had decided to invite.

She nearly fell down the stairs in astonishment when she saw who Ron was standing with. His ludicrous long nosed black and red mask clashed horribly with his hair, but at least he looked like he fit the time period. Men's fashion, it seems, had not changed as radically as the women's. Minerva McGonagall stood at his side, her black hair pulled tight in a bun that would later become her signature. She was wearing dress robes a colour between cranberry and deep purple. The lines of the robes were simple but fitted at the waist. Her mask took on the appearance of a black cat, with bits of gold circling the eyes. She joined them and together, they walked down to the Entrance Hall to meet with Harry and Tom.

When they got to the landing of the stairs, they saw Harry and his date, a pompous looking blond girl who Hermione recognised to be the future mother of Bellatrix and Narcissa, Druella Rosier. She was clad in low-cut sapphire blue robes, which made Hermione feel a little bit better about her own. They were waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione could see Druella make a face at her even beneath the peacock mask she wore. Hermione ignored her, gazing at Harry instead. His mask was made to look like a crescent moon, which only covered the left side of his face, reminding Hermione very much of the Muggle musical, The Phantom of the Opera. She turned her head and caught her breath when she saw Tom emerge from somewhere behind Harry and his date.

He looked fantastic. The dark green robes he had chosen complimented his mask expertly. His jet black hair was as neat and tidy as ever. The overall effect of it was very debonair. He held out his arm for her when she reached the bottom of the stairs and she accepted it. As she looped her arm through his, she felt rather as she had when she attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. For reasons unknown to her, she felt her face heat up and was very grateful that the design of her mask hid a large portion of her cheeks. As they entered the Great Hall, Hermione's eyes widened at the decorations.

The usual cloud of live bats was flying across the ceiling, which was still swimming with black and orange streamers, and the levitating pumpkins seemed to be the only things illuminating the Hall. The dais where the staff would sit for meals had been turned into a make shift stage. A cluster of about a hundred tables were grouped around the stage area, each one lit with a miniature pumpkin surrounded by a wreath of Autumn leaves and each one looking as if it could fit a dozen students, much like the ones at the Yule Ball. The walls of the Hall were draped with sheer black and orange cloth which was secured together in the middle of the room to form a tent-like setting. The whole thing was stunning.

The group sat down at a table closest to the dance floor. Tom pulled the chair out for Hermione and she sat down, shocked at his rather chivalrous behaviour. Harry and Ron, not wanting to seem rude, did the same thing as Hermione bit back a smile at their odd actions. She found a tiny menu next to her plate and picked it, excited that she knew exactly what to do. She decided that the stew sounded best and said so to her plate. Stew appeared.

"That's such a handy spell," Ron smiled as a large steak, accompanied by a generous portion of roast potatoes, appeared in front of him.

"I've never seen it used before," Minerva said.

"Er..." Ron replied, "My Aunt's used this spell at her...restaurant?"

Hermione fought the intense urge to kick him from beneath the table.

"Your Aunt owns a restaurant?" Minerva asked, sounding generally interested.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "It's tops in...Ireland."

"Where exactly is your family from, Wazlib," Tom asked.

"Originally, Germany, but centuries and centuries ago, that's where 'Wazlib' comes from," Ron explained, "Ireland most recently, but most of my family moved to Britain about a decade ago."

Hermione was impressed by the story he had come up with. It sounded convincing, even to her. Harry, too, seemed rather shocked by the expertly executed alibi.

"And your blood status?" This from Druella Rosier, of course.

"Oh, lets not, shall we," Minerva snapped, "That really isn't important."

"I'd say it's very important, McGonagall," Druella replied icily, "Especially in the current climate."

"If you're talking about Grindelwald," Minerva began, "I wouldn't be too concerned. His advances have been centred around Europe and the likes. He won't come here."

"You sound so sure," Tom piped up and Hermione cast him a glance, a thin edge of dread starting in her gut.

"And what makes you think anything to the contrary, Riddle?" Minerva asked, more conversationally than maliciously.

"If he truly is as evil and powerful as everyone says he is," Tom stated in a voice that plainly spoke of disbelief to the aforementioned, "Europe wouldn't be enough for him. Once he gained control over Europe, he would most surely extend his reach to other parts of the world. Strengthen his domain."

"That's what you think, is it, Tom?" Druella asked her fellow house mate.

"It's what I would do," Tom nodded.

_It's what you'll try to do_, Hermione thought darkly, but what she said out loud is, "Isn't anyone trying to stop him?"

"Of course," Tom nodded at her, "Legions of wizards are organising against his forces."

"Our own Ministry has been thinking of throwing its support into their efforts," Druella said, "My father speaks of little else. Personally, I feel that we ought not to get involved in the whole nasty business, even if Grindelwald has wizards of true blood in mind."

Hermione glanced at Harry in a way that clearly said, _what-were-you-thinking, inviting-this-pure-blooded-tart_? Harry shot her a sort of apologetic glance that seemed to say, _she-was-better-than-Olive- Hornby_ and shrugged.

"Wizards of true blood?" Minerva bristled, "By which you meant pure bloods, am I correct?"

"Come off it, will you," Hermione spoke quite forcefully, "Lets all focus on having a bit of fun tonight rather than politics and blood status."

Minerva had the grace to give Hermione a sheepish smile, "You're right, of course, Hermione."

Druella, on the other hand sneered a bit and turned her blond head toward the stage. They finished dinner in silence after that. The cutlery disappeared and the lights in the Hall dimmed. On the stage, instruments appeared out of thin air and the Hall filled with excited chatter.

"I wonder who Dippet has arranged for tonight," Druella commented, her pale gaze on the stage.

A group of Goblins dressed in tuxedos filed onto the stage and took up the instruments and began to play a soft tune and Druella let off a positively feminine shriek of delight.

"Oh, that wonderful man!" She cried, "He's booked Jareth and the Goblins!"

A spot light appeared in the middle of the stage and a puff of violent purple smoke erupted in the centre of it. When the smoke cleared, a tall, thin wizard with oddly cut platinum hair and wearing more make-up than any woman Hermione had ever seen stepped up to the edge of the stage. His high collared robes were royal blue and embroidered at the shoulders and cuffs with thousands of tiny jewels. At his appearance, several female voice raised it hysterical cheering. He pointed his wand to his throat and muttered the spell that would amplify his voice throughout the Hall. The first song was a soft one and many girls were positively pulling their dates onto the dance floor.

"Dance with me, won't you?" Druella snapped at Harry, grabbing his hand and yanking him into the crowd.

"Poor bloke," Ron said as he shook his head, "Minerva, you wouldn't want a dance, would you?"

Hermione caught the tinge of pink in McGonagall's cheeks even in the dim light. She smiled at Ron, but Ron being Ron and oblivious to the the female species in general, had missed it.

"I would love to," Minerva replied, taking his offered hand and they, too, disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione was left to uncomfortably shift in her seat as she watched Tom fiddling with the flame in the pumpkin, changing its colour and intensity with his wand. She turned her gaze to the gaggle of girls who had clustered around the edge of the stage, calling and reaching for the crooning wizard. The scene was rather comical and Hermione laughed out loud. Tom's wand slipped at her sudden jubilation, causing the flame to shoot through the opening at the top of the pumpkin at an alarming height. He regained control and lowered it to its proper height once more, his face at its aristocratic best, signalling to Hermione that he was shielding against his emotions again. He was no doubt embarrassed by his little slip.

"So," Hermione piped, "Who is this Jareth man?"

"Don't you listen to the Wizarding Wireless?" Tom asked.

"Not really, no," Hermione replied truthfully.

"Oh, well, he's the most famous singer the WWN has to offer," Tom replied offhandedly, "Personally, I think he's rubbish and a poofter to boot."

"Tom," Hermione cried, "What a horrible thing to say!"

Tom glanced at the man prancing about on stage and scowled, "Just look at the state of him. What kind of man wears make-up..."

Tom's face suddenly blanked and he turned his head slowly toward Hermione again. When he was finally facing her, his blank mask was in place once more. Hermione, herself felt her face burning. Just when exactly had Tom _become_ Tom in her mind? They sort of stared at each other in silent astonishment, Tom's being well hidden and only visible in a corner of his eyes.

"Did you just..." he began, his question halted by the arrival of Ron and McGonagall back at the table.

They were both smiling and pink in the face from dancing. Ron looked between the shocked look on Hermione's face and the absence of any expression on Riddle's and frowned. Ron reached under the table and touched her hand, causing her to jump so violently, the table shook. She turned wide eyes to Ron and frowned. When had he shown up? He gave her hand a little squeeze which she returned tightly. Ron released her hand and looked at Riddle.

"You wouldn't mind if I barrow, Hermione, would you?" He asked.

Riddle shook his head and Ron turned to Minerva, "How about you, Minerva?"

"Oh, go ahead," Minerva smiled, "I want a breather."

Hermione allowed Ron to lead her onto the dance floor as another, soft song began to play. Ron pulled her close to himself and they swayed to the music.

"Are you alright?" he asked into the top of her head.

Hermione nodded without speaking, still trying to work out what had just happened in her own mind.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, "You looked kinda peaky back there."

"It's nothing, really," Hermione replied, looking up at him, "So, are you and Minerva having a good time?"

"Surprisingly, yeah," Ron nodded, "She's a better dancer now that she's a bit younger."

"I wonder how Harry's doing," Hermione smiled.

"Probably regretting that he didn't invite Myrtle," Ron said and Hermione laughed, "Riddle hasn't been chatting you up, has he?"

"No," Hermione replied, wanting to steer well clear of the subject of Tom Riddle, "Well done with the heritage, by the way. I was impressed."

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron smiled into her hair.

"It makes me feel unprepared," Hermione said, "I haven't thought of a background story yet."

"Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say," Ron replied impishly, "Hermione Granger, unprepared? Preposterous!"

Hermione smacked him gently on the arm, "This whole business has gotten my head so willy-nilly. I just want to be done with it and go back home."

"I know how you feel," Ron sighed, "I hope my family is pulling through."

"I'm sure they're perfectly alright," Hermione smiled affectionately, "The Weasley's are a tenacious lot."

"That we are," Ron smiled.

The song ended and they stood on the floor, looking at each other. Ron broke the glance first with an uncomfortable cough.

"Let's get you back to Riddle," he said.

"If you insist," Hermione said quietly, so quietly that Ron didn't hear it.

They made their way back to the table and Hermione sat down again. Tom's eyes were roaming over the hall, occasionally lingering on a certain object or person. Ron and Minerva had disappeared onto the dance floor again and Hermione sighed loudly as she leaned against her hand. This was turning out to be a stellar evening. Harry stumbled into the seat opposite her, his face red and exasperated. Druella stocked up beside him, frowning down at him. She lowered herself into the chair next to him in a haughty manner.

"Why did you storm off like that, Harry?" Druella pouted.

"I need to have a rest, Druella," Harry replied, "I've danced with you for five songs! Five whole songs!"

"Any decent man could endure seven," Druella replied in an obvious attempt to hurt his feelings.

"Well, I hope you find him then," Harry replied, purposefully looking away from her in disinterest.

Druella looked at him in outrage. She had obviously never been cast off so abruptly before in her life. She stood up like a shot and stormed off into the crowd.

Harry, his eyes still averted from where she had been said, "Is she gone?"

"Yes," Hermione replied through a smile.

"Thank, Merlin," Harry sighed, slumping in his chair, "I thought I'd never see the back of her."

"You made a very huge mistake just now, Evans," Tom spoke for the first time in three minuets, "She'll be sure that you'll never get a date in this school again."

"Fine by me," Harry replied with a snort.

"Of course, if you continue to brush her off, she'll hound you forever," Tom scowled.

"You sound like you know from experience," Harry smirked.

Tom nodded, "I've had many girls try for my attention."

"I don't know why," Hermione said with feigned sweetness, "It's not like you're a very good date."

"What do you mean by that?" Tom asked, his eyes narrowed a bit.

"May I remind you, To...er, Riddle, that _you_ invited _me_ to this dance," Hermione said, an idea forming in her head, "But you haven't danced with me once or even payed me the slightest bit of attention at all. Do you even know how to dance?"

"Of course I do," Riddle replied sharply.

"Ha," Hermione exclaimed, folding her arms across her chest, "I'll believe that when I see it. Or will the world end if Tom Riddle dances?"

Tom's lips pursed together and he stood up and took her hand. Hermione sent a wink at Harry as she passed him and he smiled at her. Tom led them into the crowd just as the song changed. The introduction sounded like a music box but turned into bit of a slow number. Tom positioned them for a waltz and Hermione looked up at him, not quite sure of what to expect. They began to move to the music and Hermione was surprised to find that, yes, Tom really could dance. They practically floated across the floor so lightly, it was almost as if their feet never made contact with the floor at all. Hermione turned wide brown eyes on his face as he looked down at her. Their eyes meet and Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"There's such a sad love deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel, open and closed within your eyes. I'll place the sky, within your eyes..." Jareth sang out gently.

They did a little turn and Hermione felt as if her mind was spinning in the exact opposite direction. Just what was going on here? Her heart beat pounded in time with the music and she felt a warm sort of giddiness begin in her chest and slowly push outwards.

"There's such a fooled heart, beating so fast in search of new dreams, a love that will last within your heart. I'll place the moon, within your heart.." continued the wizard at the front of the room.

Tom dipped her gently and pulled her back up just as effortlessly and they turned another circle on the floor. As he gazed down at her, the tingling in his stomach roared to life so suddenly and so strong that it almost hurt. She was staring up into his face with a wonder so plain it made his heart leap. What was this strange and new sensation?

"As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill has gone. Wasn't too much fun at all, but I'll be there for you-oo-oo," Jareth sighed, "As the world falls down..."

"Falling...As the world...Falling down," a backup choir of Goblins chimed in surprisingly sweetly, "Falling in love..."

Tom spun her softly and held her more firmly as they continued to waltz in the small section of the floor.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold. I'll spin you Valentine evenings, though we're strangers till now, we're choosing the path between the stars," the wizard crooned again, "I'll leave my love, between the stars."

Without warning, Tom changed the position of his hands and lifted her delicately into the air in a half-arc and placed her gently back onto the ground.

"Makes no sense at all," Jareth called, "Makes no sense to fall...Falling...Falling...Falling in love."

He pulled her closer to him and they turned once more before the song ended. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, Tom still holding her close to him, gazing into each other's eyes with a kind of mystified bewilderment. Tom dropped his gaze and the spell, it seemed, had broken. He looked back into her eyes, but she was surprised to find that his face was anything but impassive. His face was relaxed and unguarded and her heart nearly stopped to see such a look of hopeless confusion painted upon it. She pulled away first, needing to get away from that look. He let her go, however reluctantly and she cast him another glance, a gentle smile on her face.

"There, now. You see," she asked, "The world didn't end."

With that, she turned away and headed out of the Great Hall entirely, her heart beating fast and her mind racing with unimaginable questions.

* * *

**AN: **The opinion of David Bowie's sexuality belong solely to Tom Riddle. Just wanted to clear that up . I also made, Doctor Who references in here, too, so if anyone vaguely recognised a sentence of two, that's probably why. 


	9. Easier To Run

**AN: **Thanks to **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86** and **bookworm2895** for the reviews, favorites and alerts. And thank you to everyone who continues to read and review this story, it has gotten more attention than I had anticipated :) So thank you guys so much! Onto the next.

**Chapter 9: Easier to Run:**

Hermione couldn't have been more thankful that the masquerade had been on a Friday. Being on a Friday gave her two whole days of not having to see Tom. She sat in the Room of Requirement, which had decorated itself in an exact replica of the Gryffindor common room. A fire was roaring in the mantle, unneeded, but still very comforting to her troubled mind. A bright glimmer of sunlight was filtering in through a tiny, near invisible window to her right. She sighed and shifted her position on the soft, squishy crimson couch so that her head was leaning against the arm. It was easier to read her book from that position, or try to read it anyway.

Her eyes were fixed on the same paragraph they had been since she had first opened the tomb nearly half an hour ago. Her mind refusing to concentrate on anything except the events of the previous night. She could still feel Tom's hands on her and how he had gently, but firmly propelled them across the floor. She remembered the heat on her face when she realized that she had called him by his given name rather than the more polite and formal surname. And that same question kept chasing itself in a circle across her mind. When had she begun to think of him as Tom? What event had caused that? She sighed loudly, exasperated at herself and pulled the book closer to her, as if that one motion would force her brain to start absorbing the words on the page and form them into a logical thought.

She stared at the words...and stared...and stared. Finally, with a little growl of frustration, she snapped the book soundly closed and tossed it onto the table. It landed with a sharp and heavy _thud_. She glared at it where it lay on the table, as if it were the book's fault that she could not concentrate on the words within. She ran a hand through her still smooth hair and looked around her. The brightness of the sunlight told her that it must have been about noon now, but she didn't dare go down for lunch, lest Tom be there.

"Don't be daft, Hermione," she told herself, "You aren't going to go and starve yourself just because Tom Riddle will be in the Great Hall the same time you are."

With another sigh, she uncurled herself from the couch and headed for the Great Hall.

* * *

Hermione stood just outside of the oak doors of the Great Hall. She took a deep breath and released it, walking into the Hall and making a bee line for the Gryffindor table without so much as a glance toward the Slytherin one. She found Ron, and with an amused glance to his left, she also found a disgusted looking Minerva watching him as he shoveled food into his mouth. She smiled when she joined them.

"Good afternoon, Minerva," she said, "Ron."

"Aft'oon," Ron replied through a mouthful of chicken sandwich.

Minerva made a face, "Good afternoon, Hermione. We missed you at breakfast."

"I was in the library," Hermione replied.

"I see," Minerva grimaced as Ron stuffed half of another sandwich into his gob, "Honestly, Ronald, must you eat like an animal?"

Hermione laughed, "You might as well give up now. It's a bad job, trying to make him eat like a normal, civilized human being."

"What?" Ron asked after downing a goblet of pumpkin juice, "I'm hungry. Harry was looking for you, by the way."

"What for?" Hermione asked, helping herself to some chips.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, "He didn't say."

"Well, where is he now?" Hermione asked after a very quick once-over of the Slytherin table.

"He left a couple of minuets ago," Ron shrugged, "Didn't tell me where he was going."

Hermione frowned. She looked back at the Slytherin table before she could stop herself. Tom wasn't there. Was he avoiding her, too?

"You two didn't see To...Riddle, by any chance, did you?" Hermione asked with feigned offhandedness.

"No," Minerva replied, "He wasn't at breakfast this morning. Are you looking for him?"

"No," Hermione said airily, "I was just wondering."

"You two disappeared last night," Ron said with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that, Ron," Hermione chastised.

"I wasn't looking at you in any particular manner," Ron replied hastily, throwing his hands up in submission.

"Nothing happened," Hermione replied, feeling like she needed to defend herself, "We just danced is all."

"Alright," Ron said, "Okay. Calm down."

"I am calm," Hermione near snapped as she stood up, "I'm going...somewhere else."

Ron looked after her as she stormed out of the Great Hall in immense confusion, "What did I do?"

He looked at Minerva who could only shrug in reply.

* * *

Hermione plopped down onto the couch in the Room of Requirement once more. What was wrong with her? She had just snapped at Ron for no particular reason. She buried her face in her hands and sighed. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She, Harry and Ron were supposed to be destroying Horcruxes, not trying to make Tom Riddle fall in love with her. Harry was supposed to defeat Voldemort, not her. She and Ron...she and Ron were supposed to finally be together, not Ron and Minerva, the way it seemed to be turning out. She leaned back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. She just wanted to go home.

The sound of the door closing made her yelp in surprise. She spun around on the couch, her wand aimed at the door. Harry looked back at her, his arms in the air to show her that he was unarmed. She lowered her wand with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, Harry," she laughed, "What happened to you?"

Harry looked as if he had just been manhandled, his jumper slightly askew and his hair even messier than normal. He walked toward her, rubbing his eyes from beneath his glasses and sunk down next to her.

"Rosier," Harry replied.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked.

"Rosier happened to me," Harry repeated, "Riddle was right, playing hard to get only peaked her interest. She's persistent, that one."

Hermione allowed herself to smile, "Just think, Harry, if we get stuck here, you just might end up as Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa's father."

Harry stared at her in abject horror.

"They'd turn out the better for it, I think," Hermione continued, "And Ron and McGonagall...what a smart pair they'll make."

"And you," Harry asked, an amused look in his eyes at the thought of Ron and McGonagall, "Who would you stay with?"

Hermione's smile slipped, "I don't know. I haven't found anyone of interest here just yet."

"But I think you have," Harry replied gently, "You disappeared last night. You and Riddle."

"After we danced I left," Hermione said sharply. "I guess he must have done, too."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"We danced," Hermione shrugged.

"And that caused you to run out of the Hall like you did?" Harry replied.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, "But how did you...?"

"I was watching," Harry answered, "Just to make sure he didn't try to hurt you."

"He didn't hurt me," Hermione said softly.

"Then why did you run?" Harry asked, concern in his emerald gaze.

"It was the look in his eyes, Harry," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"He looked so...lost," Hermione whispered, "He looked so utterly hopeless...and it was that one look of...of _desolation_ that frightened me more than any look of hatred or animosity ever could."

Hermione shook her head, "If you had just seen that look in his eyes...you would have fled too."

"It's working," Harry said gently.

Hermione looked away from him then, "This whole thing makes me sick to my stomach."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Why?" Hermione shouted, "_Why_? You're asking me to play with someone's heart, Harry! You are asking me to deliberately interfere with someone's emotions!"

"It needs to be done, Hermione," Harry replied calmly, "I know it sounds horrible but I truly believe that this is the only way to stop him."

"And what if he finds out it's all been a lie?" Hermione asked, "What then? He'll be so much worse if he finds out we've been lying!"

"I don't think..." Harry started.

"No, you don't think, Harry," Hermione looked back at him, her blazing brown eyes on his cool emerald ones, "You never do! You just blaze on in and make things up as you go! Well you can't do it this time. You can't."

"What do you want, then, Hermione?" Harry asked, the first note of aggravation leaking into his steady voice.

"I don't want to do it anymore," Hermione said, "I don't want to mess with his heart like that."

Harry stood up from the couch and walked toward the door, then. Hermione looked after him from her position on the couch.

"It's funny how you talk about it being a lie," Harry smiled humorlessly.

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked.

"Everything you've just said," Harry replied, "Everything about the lost, desolate look in his eyes...about how hopeless he looked..."

"What about it," Hermione asked, her heart beating fast in her chest.

"It sounds to me like you felt it yourself last night," Harry replied, "And I think that's what scared you, not only because he was feeling it, but because _you_ were, too. That's what made you run last night. That's what's making you run still."

She gazed at him, silently cursing his inborn and annoyingly accurate perception. She opened her mouth to challenge his theory but he forestalled her by continuing.

"And that whole bit about not wanting to play with his heart," Harry continued, "You may try and trick yourself into thinking it's your sense of pity but it sound a lot like love to me."

Harry opened the door and stepped outside of it, poking his head back through, "He's been avoiding you, too, in case you were wondering."

* * *

Harry shook his head when he entered the Slytherin common room. Riddle was sitting by the fire, reading one of his text books. He and Hermione were so alike in their studious nature...and their unrelenting stubbornness. Harry took the seat opposite Riddle and watched him reading his book. It didn't take very long for Riddle to be annoyed by the metaphysical intrusion.

"What do you want, Evans?" Riddle asked as he flipped a page in his book.

"Aren't you hungry, Riddle?" Harry asked, "You haven't moved from that spot since 7:30 this morning."

"I hadn't noticed," Riddle replied, his eyes staring at a fixed spot on the page.

Harry had the distinct impression that Riddle wasn't actually reading the text, "Are you really reading that?"

"Yes," Riddle snapped, "And I'd like to get back to it, if you don't mind."

"I'll just go, then, shall I?" Harry said, standing up and moving to a different part of the room.

Riddle shifted in his seat and continued to stare at the book in his hands. Harry watched him surreptitiously from his new place on the couch in the middle of the room. Harry took out his Potions essay and began to work on it, using it as a ruse to stay in the common room. Hours passed and when Harry looked up from his nearly completed essay, he found Riddle still in the chair, staring down at the book. Harry sighed as he stood up and left the common room for dinner.

* * *

Tom watched Evans leave from the corner of his eye. The annoying little pest. How dare he interrupt his studying? Who did he think he was? And asking after his well being like that? What was that about? Acting like his _friend_. The very thought of it! And how irritating it was that he had accurately noticed that Tom hadn't actually been reading the book at all.

He hadn't been able to focus on his school work all day. The only thought in his mind seemed to be of Granger and the events that happened at the dance. He could still feel her in his arms, how graceful she was while they danced. How beautiful she was. As he thought of her, the vexatious prickling feeling in his stomach burned to life again. How he hated that feeling. How he hated that it would always spring up whenever she was around him. How he hated it when it had ended as he watched her vacate the Great Hall after their dance. How he hated the feeling of cold emptiness fill him as he watched her run out of the Hall, as he watched her run from him. Just what was wrong with him?

He placed his book in his lap and gazed at the fire that roared on in the mantle. The flames jumped and danced as he watched them, and the heat felt good on his body. The heat that reminded him so much of the one he felt radiating off of Hermione's body as the two of them had danced oh so closely together. It was a delightful feeling, a feeling that made him feel safe and comforted. With a realization so powerful that it made him jump with the shock of it, he found that he had never felt anything like it before in his entire life. He was also amazed to discover that he rather liked that feeling.

He turned his head toward the center of the room as his fellow house mates wandered in from dinner. He stood up and was making his way toward the dormitory when Evans trotted up to him, holding a large bundle in his hands.

"Riddle," Evans said as he held out the bundle, "This is for you. I thought you'd be hungry so I brought it down."

Tom took the bundle from Evans and opened it. It was filled with food. Tom looked back at Evans, careful that his face betrayed nothing of the astonishment that he felt. Evans watched him, seeming as though he were expecting Tom to lash out in anger at him. Tom's mouth quirked a bit in the corner, his version of a smile.

"Thank you, Evans," Riddle said and couldn't help feeling pleased when he saw Evans gape at him in surprise.

"No problem," Evans replied, walking past him into the dormitory.

Tom watched him go, and looked back down at the bundle of food in his hands. He felt himself smiled again and he headed back into the common room to eat. He didn't know why it was that Hermione and Evans were so nice to him, but he was kind of enjoying it. He glanced around the room, at all of the other Slytherin students who were so aloof and callow and couldn't help the feeling of aversion that was growing inside of him. He had never been less proud to be a Slytherin in all of his life.

* * *

_2 May, 1998 (2:17 a.m.)_

Ginny hurtled herself through a melee of curses. She had just dodged a jet of green light when the corridor in front of her vanished from sight as an explosion sent pieces of wall and glass raining down at her. She had just managed to protect herself from the waterfall of rumbled. As the dust cleared, she saw that the people who had been fighting behind her hadn't been so lucky. Bodies were strewn all over the remained of the corridor, some breathing, some not. She stood up, dusted herself off and began to turn away when the sight before her made her stop in her tracks.

Her mouth fell open as she watched the corridor repair itself right in front of her. The pieces of stone on the floor flew backwards and stacked itself again, the cracks filling themselves in to form a seamless unit once more. The shards of glass melted together to form whole windows and the people that had been blasted backwards sprang to their feet again. Everyone stared at each other in utter confusion. What was it that they were doing? The Death Eater's and Ministry officials who had been fighting each other slowly faded away as Ginny watched until the corridor was empty and whole. Ginny scratched her head in bewilderment, but she turned on her heel and ran in the opposite direction, where the sounds of battle could still be heard.


	10. Face Your Fears

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86**, **JadelynNB09**, **DkWolves**, **Monnbeam **and **BDSanta2001** for all of the reviews, alerts and favourites! You guys have been amazing!! And sorry for the lack of updates, I've been a bit busy.

**Chapter 10: Face Your Fears:**

Hermione stood in the Gryffindor common room with Minerva. The two girls were waiting for Ron to appear from the boy's dormitory. Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace and sighed. They were going to be late for class at this rate. It was now Monday, the very day that Hermione had been dreading since the eve of the dance. Today, she would have to face Tom Riddle. She had successfully avoided him for two whole days, but she could not run any longer. Ron finally joined them and they set off for their first class, Minerva parting with them on the third floor.

She and Ron continued down toward the dungeons, Hermione's face pale and peaky. Ron touched her arm lightly and she looked at him with a reassuring smile. Neither she nor Harry had recounted the exchange that happened in the Room of Requirement on Saturday. Ron needn't know that Hermione had begun to develop feelings for the future Dark Lord. They stood in the dank, cold dungeon corridor in front of the Potions classroom and waited for Slughorn to appear. Harry greeted them both with a smile followed by a large yawn. Behind him, stood Tom. Hermione allowed herself to look at him at the exact same moment that he had turned to look at her. Their eyes met and they both looked away from each other quickly.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said loudly, causing every student present to look at him.

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry replied.

"I think I'd like to work with you today," Ron replied.

"But Evans is my Potions partner," Tom said coolly.

"I think ol' Slughorn wouldn't mind switching us up a bit," Ron smiled.

"No, Ron," Hermione hissed at him in a desperate whisper, "If you switch with him, that means..."

"Riddle will be _your_ Potions partner," Ron smiled, "Exactly. I think it's fair that both of the top students work together."

"What a splendid idea, Mr. Wazlib!" Boomed Slughorn's voice from behind the class.

Hermione spun around wildly and looked at the Potions professor with imploring eyes.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Riddle," Slughorn beamed, "I would absolutely love to see the results that spring up from such a gifted alliance."

"Yes, sir," Tom replied politely but Hermione swore that she heard an awkward note in his voice.

The students filed into the classroom, taking their seats. Ron smiled at her as he sat next to Harry and Hermione wanted nothing more than to set the flock of canaries on him again. Of all of the dirty tricks...Tom slipped into the seat next to her and she stared at her cauldron hard. Slughorn was giving instructions for the potion they were supposed to be brewing on the blackboard at the front of the classroom but all Hermione could seem to concentrate on was how close Tom was sitting next to her.

They took out their ingredients and started to work on the potion in dead silence.

"How..." Tom began, having to clear his throat before he could start again, "How have you been?"

"Er..." Hermione faltered, unprepared for questioning, "I've been alright. You?"

"Same," Tom replied, "So..."

"So..."

"Were you avoiding me?" They both asked at the same time.

They stared at each other and Hermione laughed lightly.

"Yes," Hermione blushed, "Yes, I was."

"Me, too," the corner of Tom's mouth did the funny smile/spasm, "Sorry."

"Me, too," she replied.

"We have patrol tonight," Tom said lamely, in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing.

"We do," Hermione nodded, "Uh, how is the Slug club?"

Tom shrugged gracefully, "It's okay, I suppose. You should come. He's having another "party", that's what he calls them, parties, this weekend."

"Oh?" Hermione asked as she added powdered billywigs to the potion.

"Yes," Tom said, "He said we could invite people to them, if we'd like to...Would you like to go with me?"

"I...yes," Hermione smiled at him, "I would be delighted to go with you."

"Alright," Tom smiled, a real, true smile, "Great."

Hermione let herself look at him. He really was handsome, especially when he truly smiled. When he actually smiled, his whole face softened and made his usually stark manner melt away. She liked it when he smiled. They sat there, staring at each other for a long moment until Slughorn's criticism of a neighbouring table's potion brought them back to the present task.

"Just as I suspected," Slughorn clapped loudly, "Riddle and Granger are far ahead of the rest of you lot! Shinning students, the pair of you. Fantastic work."

* * *

Harry and Ron were hardly paying attention to their potion, rather like the old times. They were much more fascinated by the events unfolding across the room from them. Tom and Hermione were talking, smiling even! Ron leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. There was a sharp pang of remorse in his chest and he leaned forward, bringing the chair down with him. Harry looked at his best friend with a frown.

"She likes him, doesn't she?" Ron asked glumly.

"Yeah, she does," Harry nodded, "But you must have known..."

"Because I suggested the partner thing?" Ron sighed, "I think I did...but, I just can't help..."

"Being jealous?" Harry smiled.

"Yeah," Ron nodded.

"I know how you feel," Harry said, remembering the time when Krum tired to move in on Ginny at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"It's not fair," Ron sighed, laying his head on his arms, "We just got together..."

"Ron," Harry began, not knowing quite what to say.

"I know I agreed to let her do this, for our future's sake," Ron continued as he watched Hermione and Riddle talking, "But I never thought she'd start to..."

"Love him, too," Harry finished for him.

Ron nodded, "She knew that I ended it to make it easier on her, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did," Harry nodded.

"I'm glad that it worked," Ron smiled humorlessly, "As long as she's happy and he takes care of her..."

Ron finished with a shrug. Harry looked at his best friend and then at the girl who was laughing with the boy who would become the most evil wizard of the age. He seemed so much more relaxed then he used to be. Maybe, just maybe, the future would be safe.

* * *

Tom and Hermione wandered down the second floor aimlessly. As usual, there was no one who dared be out of bed past curfew.

"What are Slughorn's parties like?" Hermione asked, knowing full well what they were like.

"They're fun, I suppose," Tom replied, pointing the tip of his lit wand into a dark alcove, "He usually has these special guests come in, some of them are famous musicians or Potions Masters. They're all talented or famous for something or another."

"It sounds pompous to me," Hermione said as she peered behind a tapestry that she knew concealed a shortcut to the third floor.

"I suppose it is," Tom nodded.

They came to the corridor that held the bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber was. Hermione's shoulders tensed but Tom walked right past it without a second glance. She let out the breath she had been holding and caught up to him, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at the offending bathroom. They were almost in the clear when Tom froze in mid step. He tilted his head to the side and listened. Hermione closed her eyes and cursed silently.

"There's that voice again," Tom whispered into the deadly quiet.

"What's it saying?" Hermione asked, seeing no sense in denying the voice's existence any longer.

Tom turned and looked at her, his dark blue eyes scrutinising her, "Can you hear it, too?"

Hermione took a deep breath, "No, Tom, I can't. But you seem to be able to."

"Did you just call..." Tom began, momentarily distracted.

"Did I just call you by your given name?" Hermione finished the question for him, "Yes, I did."

"Why?" Tom asked, walking closer to her.

Hermione opened her mouth and paused, trying to decided just how to answer, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Tom asked, "How can you not know?"

Hermione shrugged, "I guess it's because...it just seemed like..."

Her sentence died in her throat as Tom stopped agonisingly close to her. They were inches apart and Hermione was almost certain that he could hear her heart beating frantically against her rib cage. It was all she could hear, anyway. He looked down at her, his eyes as blue as midnight and filled with such an intense longing. They were so close, closer than they had been at the dance. He bent low over her and she froze, a rabbit trapped in the serpents gaze...

"Riddle, Granger, there you are," came the voice of Ignatius Prewett from somewhere behind Tom.

Tom straighted up and backed up several steps, disguising it as a movement toward the Head Boy, "Yes, Prewett?"

"What were you two doing?" Ignatius asked, casting an inquisitive glance at Hermione, who still looked a bit frightened.

"We," she said softly, "We thought we heard voices."

"From where?" Ignatius asked.

"From the bathroom," Tom answered, "But Hermione checked and found no one."

Hermione's face snapped toward Tom's profile as he spoke to the Head Boy. He had called her by her given name.

"Very well," Ignatius nodded, "I just came to tell you that you two may return to your dormitories now."

"Thank you," Tom nodded at the older boy.

Ignatius looked at Hermione once more before he turned and headed for the Head's dormitory. Tom turned and looked at Hermione once more. He walked toward her again.

"You called me by my first name," she echoed his words from earlier, "Why?"

"I don't know," he answered with a smile, "I guess it's because it just seemed like it was time to."

Hermione smiled and the pair of them made their way toward the staircases that would take them to their dormitories. They were inches apart as they walked down the deserted hallway and it wasn't long before Hermione felt Tom's fingers intertwine with hers.


	11. Warning

**AN: **A HUGE thank you to everyone who has been keeping up with this story. It means so much to me that you all enjoy it! Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **g.piz**, **xxRomdevilxx**, **BDSanta2001**, **Lolizz**, **MagZ86**, **LilyPotter56**, **vinz112** and **Naomi N. Yang** for all of the reviews, alerts and favourites!

**Chapter 11: Warning:**

It was Saturday evening and Hermione found herself in front of the mirror in the girls dormitory. She couldn't decide on what to wear so she just ended up in her uniform. She was brushing a bit of lint off of her robes when Minerva wandered in from the common room.

"You're going to wear your school uniform to Professor Slughorn's party?" She asked with lips pressed together in distaste.

Hermione jumped and then faced the other girl, "I couldn't find anything suitable."

"Surely you have everyday clothes," Minerva said as she walked up next to Hermione, "I've seen you wear them before. Though, admittedly, they are of a strange fashion."

"But that's what I mean," Hermione gestured vaguely, "They're not suitable."

"I don't suppose the parties are formal?" Minerva asked.

"From what I've heard, no," Hermione replied, "Semi-formal, I suppose."

"Hmmm," Minerva tapped her lips with her fingers as she looked Hermione over, "And you're absolutely sure that you have nothing else to wear?"

Hermione nodded, perplexed at the other girl's interest in her appearance this evening. Minerva stood beside her and shook her head when Hermione looked at her.

"Stand up straight, won't you?" Minerva instructed and Hermione obliged.

They were nearly the same height. Minerva smiled and then disappeared into her trunk. Hermione sat down at the edge of her bed and watched the other girl as she pulled out tiny garment after tiny garment. Finally, Hermione could see a mass of red in her hands and watched as Minerva restored the garment to its original size. She sat next to Hermione and handed her the dress.

"What is this?" Hermione asked, looking at the dress in her hands.

"Something I've never worn, nor plan to," Minerva replied, "It was something my mother thought I should wear."

She made a face and Hermione had no trouble seeing why as she held the garment up in front of her. The dress was strapless and made of what looked like silk. It was elegant and suggestive all at once. Hermione ran her hand over the angled hem of the dress. She looked at Minerva, her eyes questioning. Minerva smiled at her.

"Take it," she said, "I will never, ever wear it, I assure you. I've actually been waiting for the right moment to pawn it off."

"Thank you so much," Hermione said.

"You're welcome," Minerva smiled, "But you'd better hurry or you'll be late."

With that, Minerva stood up and left Hermione alone in the room to change.

* * *

Tom stood at the bottom of the grand staircase waiting for Hermione to appear. The weird tingling in his stomach that he had grown to enjoy and hate flared up again as he waited. His mind was alive with conflicting thoughts. A dark, panicky voice kept saying, _what if she doesn't come? What if she's changed her mind?_ He shook his head to clear away the strangely painful thoughts and fought with himself to stay still and not start on an endless pacing track. When he looked up, he forgot how to breathe. 

Hermione was walking toward him, an enchanting smile on her face. He found himself staring at the dress she was wearing. It was a colour of red that complimented her pale complexion perfectly. It also didn't escape his notice that the dress left her shoulders completely bare. She was standing next to him now, looking up at him, questions in her brown eyes.

"Tom," she breathed his name in concern, "Are you alright? You're turning mauve."

Tom cleared his throat to disguise the intake of breath that he just remembered he needed and nodded, his head reeling slightly from its previous lack of oxygen. He offered her his arm and she took it, walking with him down toward the dungeon room where Slughorn was hosting his parties this time around. Tom couldn't help but steal glances at Hermione as they walked in the long dark corridors. Hermione felt his eyes on her and looked up at him, a bashful smile on her lips. She secretly regretted wearing the dress. It made her feel so exposed. At the same time, however, she couldn't help feeling elated about the fact that Tom couldn't stop staring at her.

It wasn't long before they heard music playing from one of the frequently empty classrooms and Tom stopped in front of the door. They stood there for a long time and Hermione shifted around uncomfortably.

"Aren't we going in?" She asked softly.

"Right," Tom said, pulling his eyes away from her with some difficulty.

He placed his hand on the door handle and the door swung open for them. They stepped into the crowded room and Hermione felt a huge surge of deja vu wash over her. There were people everywhere and Hermione vaguely recognised the man who had sung at the Halloween masquerade and a few of the other students, most of whom were in higher years. She clung to Tom's arm as he guided them through the crowd toward the large form of Slughorn who was laughing with a dark, towering wizard.

"Ah, Tom, m'boy, welcome, welcome," He patted Tom on the back genially and Tom grimaced slightly.

Just as Hermione had expected, he had a large goblet of elf-made wine waving in his hands. She was sure that this wasn't his first glass. His eyes danced happily when they landed on her.

"AH, Miss Granger!" He cried, "What a pleasant surprise! It's nice to see you."

"Thank you, Professor," she blushed lightly, "It was nice of Tom to invite me."

"Indeed, indeed," Slughorn nodded, giving the pair of them a sly smile, "I've noticed that you two are on much friendlier terms since Monday!"

Hermione blushed a deeper shade of red and Tom shuffled beside her.

"I expected it, of course," Slughorn added to the dark stranger next to him, no doubt the wine talking, "These two were made for each other. The two brightest students in the school, they are."

Tom cleared his throat, "We'll just leave you to your friend, Professor."

"Alright, Tom, m'boy," He smiled widely, "You two have fun!"

Tom gave him a nod and Hermione smiled and they disappeared into the crowd again, Hermione's shoulder bladed itching with the feeling of being stared at. She chanced a glance behind her and saw the dark man looking at her. Tom took them to a small deserted table which was stationed next to a table of what appeared to be vampires.

"That was a bit embarrassing," Hermione confessed over the loud music.

"It was the wine talking," Tom shook his head in severe disapproval, "He's usually not quite that bad when its just us."

"Just you?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Tom nodded, "Me and the others he had collected this year."

"Oh," Hermione replied.

A silence fell between them then which was only punctuated by the music playing from an old enchanted phonograph in the corner of the room. She turned her head and saw the group of vampires gazing longingly at her very exposed throat and shifted closer to Tom, unconsciously. He looked down at her where she sat, mere inches from him. He felt an intense urge to touch her, to just reach up and stroke the side of her pale cheek. He folded his hands together on the table instead, not wanting to tempt himself. She looked back toward him and seemed startled that she was sitting so close. When had she moved? She shifted in her seat, moving a bit away from him, but still staying as far form the staring vampires as she could.

"This is fun," She said.

Tom looked at her again, a tiny feeling of disappointment flaring to life in his chest at her new found distance, "What would you like to do?"

She shrugged gracefully, "I'd like to get away from that lot."

She made a gesture toward the vampires and Tom glared over at them. One of them drew back a bit but they didn't move. Tom stood and took her hand and they relocated to another table across the room.

"Would you like a butterbeer?" Tom asked suddenly.

"I would love one," Hermione smiled.

Tom disappeared and Hermione was left alone at the table. The tall, dark man that Slughorn had been speaking to earlier appeared in front of her and she jumped violently. It seemed as though he just materialised in front of her. She looked up at him and gasped. His eyes were completely black. There was no white in them at all. He held out a dark hand, his skin so dark that it seemed to be made of shadow itself, and pointed at her. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at the stranger. All around her it seemed that the party had frozen in time. The music died. No one moved, save her and the dark stranger before her.

"You do not belong here," said the man in a voice that was deep but surprisingly soft.

"What?" Hermione choked out, "What are..."

"You do not belong here," he said again, his black, black eyes boring into hers.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her blood running cold, "I don't know what you mean."

"Leave now," he spoke again, ignoring her comment, "Leave now or we will make you leave."

"Who are you?" Hermione gasped, her voice barley more than a whisper.

"We are ancient," the man said in his soft deep voice, "We are law. Leave this place or we will make you leave. You do not belong here."

And then he was gone and time had started again. Hermione sat in her chair, her hands at her chest. She was very nearly hyperventilating. Her heart was pounding so fast that it hurt. Tom reappeared with two butterbeers in his hands. He looked at her, his dark brows knitted together in concern. She turned wide, fearful eyes to him and stood up abruptly. Almost as soon as she stood, the world spun, she could hear Tom call out her name and then the world went black.

* * *

**AN: **And that's it for this chapter. Sorry for it being so short, I just have to figure out what just happened...That strange man is a surprise to me too. We'll see where this takes us now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I'm intrigued. Stay tuned! 


	12. A New Mystery

**AN: **First, thanks go out to **stsgirlie**, **BDSanta2001**, **Lakshmi1**, **lil.cutie.23**, **Icefire25** and **MagZ86** for the reviews, alerts and favourites. Next I would like to apologise again for the lack of length of the last chapter. I was startled. The stranger wasn't supposed to be there just yet or in that form, for that matter, so I'm just going to start typing this chapter and see where the characters lead me. I hope it's somewhere good. Onto the next!

**Chapter 12: A New Mystery:**

Hermione woke with a start. She flew up in bed only to be greeted by strong, gentle hands pressing her shoulders back against the bed. Tom's face appeared over hers, his dark eyes concerned. She looked past him to take in her surroundings. She was in the Hospital Wing. Her frantic heart beat slowed at the realisation that she was safe. Tom leaned back in the chair he was sitting in and allowed her to get her bearings.

"What happened?" Hermione choked out, finding her voice hoarse.

A glass of water was suddenly placed against her dry lips and she sipped at it eagerly. Tom set the glass on the table next to the bed and leaned toward her again.

"You fainted," he explained.

"Why did I do that?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"I was hoping you would be able to tell me the answer to that," Tom gave her the lopsided smile that she had grown fond of.

She lay in bed and thought back to Slughorn's party. What could have happened that would have caused her to faint? Then she saw him, the dark man who seemed to be made of shadows, his black eyes holding hers firmly. She could recall with startling clarity his deep, soft voice and the chilling words they spoke. _You don't belong here._ _You don't belong here. Leave now. _As she remembered, her heart rate shot up again and she took deep breathes to try and calm herself. Tom was suddenly at her side, hovering uselessly, trying to figure out what to do.

"I'm alright," she breathed after a moment, holding out her hand and he sat back down, "I'm okay, now."

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, "I can get Madam Iona..."

"No, I'm fine," Hermione assured him, "Tom...do you know who that man was who was talking to Professor Slughorn?"

"What man?" Tom asked.

"That tall, dark wizard we saw Professor Slughorn speaking with when we first got there?" Hermione pressed.

"What are you talking about?" Tom looked utterly bewildered.

"Now is not the time to play games," Hermione said, panic beginning to rise in her chest.

Tom gave her a long, searching look, "I think that spill must have been worse than it appeared."

"There was a man!" Hermione shouted, sitting up as she did so and ignoring the feeling of nausea that rose with her, "I saw him! He was talking to Professor Slughorn when we first arrived! You saw him!"

"No, I didn't," Tom shook his head, standing as he did so, "There was no one with Slughorn when we saw him."

"But there was!" Hermione persisted, her voice raising to a high pitch in her panic, "I saw..."

Tom placed his firm, gentle hands on her shoulders again and tried to press her against the pillows but she smacked his hands away. He glared at her as she began flinging the blankets off of herself. Madam Iona was suddenly at her side with snippy remarks at Tom. He backed away from the matron and shook his head, his hands in the air in surrender.

"What have you done to her?" Madam Iona clucked, "Didn't I tell you not to disturb her, now look."

Hermione was trying to get out of bed and Madam Iona was stopping her, a steaming goblet suddenly in her hands.

"Get this down you, dear," Madam Iona was saying, "It will help you sleep."

"No," Hermione was trying to push the goblet away and failed as Tom grasped her hands, "Let me go!"

"Its for your own good," Tom said softly.

Madam Iona finally managed to force the potion down her throat and Tom lowered her back to the bed. His hands still gripped hers just to make sure that she wouldn't fight him again. The potion's effects were instantaneous. As soon as her head hit the pillow again, Tom's face blurred and the light was no more.

* * *

As soon as he was sure she was asleep, Tom released her hands and stared down at her sleeping frame. His brow was wrinkled in concern. What had she been talking about? There was no one with Slughorn when they had arrived, he was sure of it. And yet, she seemed so confident that there was. Perhaps the impact from her fainting spell had been harder than they first precised.

The matron hovered over Hermione, checking her eyes for any sign of a concussion. She had done it when the poor girl had first arrived, or course and found nothing of the sort. She did it yet again just to be sure. She frowned down at the sleeping young woman and turned venomous eyes on her escort.

"What did you do to her?" she hissed, "The poor girl was in hysterics."

"I assure you, ma'am, that I didn't do anything to her," Tom replied evenly, his eyes on Hermione.

"Then what set her off?" Madam Iona asked haughtily.

"I don't know," Tom replied, "She was delirious...It was hard to understand what she was saying."

"Poor thing," Madam Iona sighed, "She appeared to be fine. Well, I've given her a sleeping draught and I'll keep her here until tomorrow for observation. You may go now."

"Can't I stay with her for a bit longer?" Tom asked.

Madam Iona smiled, "Alright. But only five more minuets."

Tom nodded and the matron disappeared behind the door to her office. Tom watched Hermione take deep, even breaths and felt the tight knot of apprehension loosen in his stomach. He remembered the look of absolute terror on her face before she fell and how it had made his blood run cold to see such a look on her face. He remembered how loud the shattering of the glass from the butterbeer bottles were when he dropped them to get to her side. He remembered the absolute panic when he could not rouse her and he closed his eyes against it all. How strange it was to go through such a range of new emotions in such a small span of time. How absolutely _exhausting_ it was.

Hermione made a disgruntled noise and Tom looked back at her, his eyes wide. She shifted in her sleep, her head lulling lethargically to the side before she relaxed again. Tom let out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding slowly. Without even realising that he was doing it, he reached out and took her limp hand in his. Her fingers twitched reflexively when their flesh made contact. His thumb traced gentle circles over her smooth skin. Her fingers closed over his and a small smile pulled at his lips. He stood, still holding her hand in his and very reluctantly, he let her go and headed to his dormitory.

* * *

Hermione was standing at the end of what appeared to be the seventh floor corridor. She glanced around herself and found that she was alone. She began to walk down the dark corridor toward the Room of Requirement. As she walked, she couldn't help feeling as if someone was watching her. The hair on the back of her neck stood to attention and goose-flesh erupted on her skin. She continued to walk, slowly, quietly, her ears and eyes alert for any signs of trouble. She was nearly there. Somehow, if she could just get to the Room of Requirement, she would be safe.

A light breeze played at the back of her hair and she spun around, her wand pointed down the empty hallway she had come from. Her heart threatened to choke her and she took in a deep breath to try to calm her nerves. As she turned around she screamed. The man from Slughorn's part stood mere inches from her, his body made of a deeper darkness than that around her. She backed up several steps and collided with the wall. The man was in front of her again, just standing there.

"You don't belong here," he said in his soft voice, "You must leave."

Hermione tired to speak but could hardly breath past her heart which was hammering violently at the base of her throat.

"Leave this place," the man shaped shadow commanded softly.

"What are you?" Hermione finally managed.

"We are ancient," the thing repeated, "We are law."

"What law?" Hermione pressed, her thirst for knowledge quelling her fear. She needed to know what she was dealing with.

"We are law," The shadow figure replied.

"What law!" Hermione asked.

"The law of Time," it replied, it closed its eyes and when it opened them again, they were made of the same golden mist-light that had brought them here.

"You don't belong here," it said, the mist-light radiating from its eye sockets, "Leave this place or we will make you leave."

"I don't know how," Hermione gasped, "Please, I don't know how!"

"You have until the new year," the shadow replied, "Leave or we will make you leave."

As Hermione opened her mouth to say that she didn't know how, the creature vanished. She looked at the empty corridor and let out a shacking breath. She closed her eyes and opened them to bright, light.

She sat up abruptly to see that she was in the Hospital Wing. It took her a moment to remember why she was there. She placed a trembling hand to her forehead and closed her eyes against the light.

"How are you feeling, dear?" asked Madam Iona, softly.

Hermione jumped at her voice and turned her pale face to the matron, "I'm still a bit woozy."

"Well you did have a nasty spill," Madam Iona nodded, "Here, let me look at you."

Hermione allowed the nurse to check her over to make sure that nothing more severe than a bump on her head had developed while she was sleeping.

"You seem to be fine," Madam Iona smiled, "I'll just let you relax for a bit, shall I?"

The nurse left her and headed back to her office just as the doors opened and a frantic Ron hurtled toward her followed by a concerned Harry. Madam Iona headed them off and Ron slowed down. She chastised them but finally allowed them to see her.

"Are you alright?" Ron blurted as he sat down next to her.

"Yes," Hermione said and then frowned, "And no."

"Did he hurt you?" Ron fired off again, "I'll kill him, I will..."

"Tom didn't do anything to me, Ron," Hermione snapped, "I just...I just had a bit of a fainting spell."

Ron relaxed a bit and Harry moved his chair closer to her, "Riddle told me this morning."

"He did?" Hermione asked, hardly able to contain the surprise in her voice.

"It shocked me too," Harry smiled but sobered up quickly, "What happened?"

Hermione cast a glance at Madam Iona's closed office door. The boys drew closer to her, catching the flick of her eyes toward the matron's area.

"Last night, when I was at the party," Hermione began, her voice a whisper, "There was this really strange man speaking with Professor Slughorn. He was really dark and I mean really dark. His skin looked like it was made of shadow itself."

Ron's eyebrows flew up but Harry moved closer, "Who was he?"

"Let me finish," Hermione said, "Anyway, we went to sit down and I noticed that the stranger was starring at me. He was really creepy, he was. We sat down and Tom went to get us drinks...While he was gone, the man materialised in front of me...No, I mean it! I looked away for less than a second and when I looked back he was suddenly in front of me...

Anyway, that wasn't the oddest part. What really scared me was the fact that the entire party stopped. Time _stopped._ The man spoke to me. He said I didn't belong here and that I had to leave or they would make me leave."

"They?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, "That's what he said, 'You don't belong here. Leave now or we will make you leave.'"

She shuddered at the memory, "And last night I dreamt of him. He said the same things. That I didn't belong here and that I must leave or that they would make me leave. When I asked him who they were, he said, 'We are ancient. We are law,' And when I asked him what they were law of he said Time. Then he said I had until the new year to leave."

Ron and Harry looked at her in deep contemplation. Harry spoke first, "And Riddle, what did he say?"

"He didn't see the man," Hermione shook her head, "Though I know that he saw him when we were at the party but when I talked about him, Tom said that he hadn't seen anyone talking to Slughorn."

"Strange," Harry mused, "So something knows that we don't belong in this time and wants us gone."

Hermione nodded.

"How do we do that?" Ron asked.

"I think we should do a little research," Harry said, "Hermione, when you get out of here, we'll hit the library and try to find something on these things."

"That sounds good to me," Hermione smiled, "I will be great to have something new to do."

Ron groaned, "Well, at least he gave us till the new year. I don't want to sit my O.W.L.s again. Once was bad enough."

Harry stood up and Ron followed him, "We'll let you rest up now."

She smiled at them as they walked out the door. It was only then that she realised that there was a bouquet of pure white chrysanthemums arranged in vase beside her bed. Madam Iona walked through the doors and noticed Hermione staring at the flowers, her face puzzled.

"You have a very attentive beau, Miss Granger," she smiled as she bent down over the flowers, "He insisted that he bring them here before you woke up."

"Who?" Hermione asked automatically.

"Tom Riddle, of course," Madam Iona smiled, "I'm glad to see that he's finally being social. He's always been such a sweet tempered boy but he's never...made friends."

Hermione continued to gaze at the beautiful flowers.

"Never made friends," Madam Iona said again, "Until you came."

She offered Hermione another smile and went back to her office, "You may leave when you feel up to it, Miss Granger."

Hermione sat in her bed, her eyes still glued to the bouquet that Tom had brought her. _You must leave_, she heard the dark man's voice say in her head. _You don't belong here. You must leave_. Her chest constricted at the memory of his frightening words and the utter thoughtfulness of the flowers in front of her. Her eyes burned and a tear fell from them onto the sheets that were balled up in her hands. _You must leave_, the voice said again. She knew she had too, and only weeks ago she would have been all to happy to oblige. But not now. No, now she wanted nothing more than to stay. Now she wanted nothing more than to be with Tom Riddle for the rest of her life.

* * *

**AN: **And that's where we stop, I think. I must admit, I was a bit panicked by the fact that our dark friend, lets call him the Shadow Man from now on, appeared so early in this fic. And he wasn't supposed to be human either, but I think I can make this work out still. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Onto the next! 


	13. Pressure

**AN: **First I would like to say thank you to **vamplover1200**, **BDSanta2001**, **MagZ86**, **stsgirlie**, **Phantom Shadowwalker**, **agapi16** and** irene0222 **for the reviews, favourites and alerts! Next I would like to dedicate this chapter to** BDSanta2001 **who pointed out to me that I haven't spent any time on what this whole Hermione thing was doing to Tom's future Death Eaters. With that being said, onto the next!

**Chapter 13: Pressure:**

Tom walked back into the common room at about seven. Evans was just walking out of the dormitory when Tom headed him off.

"Morning, Riddle," Evans' voice was a wary question.

"Hermione had a spill last night," Tom told him, "She's in the Hospital Wing."

Evans' eyes went wide with worry and Tom had an odd urge to reassure him.

"She's fine now," Tom hurried on, "I just thought you'd like to know." 

"Thank you," Evans nodded.

"Oh, and tell Wazlib, too," Tom added with a scowl, "I suppose he'd want to know."

"I will," Evans nodded and hurried out of the common room.

Tom sat down in his usual chair by the cold fire place, his features arranged in deep thought. Hermione's panicked face swam before his closed eyes and they snapped open. He could hear her frightened voice urging him to remember the stranger that was supposed to have been speaking to Slughorn last night. Tom's brow furrowed all the more. He was absolutely sure that there hadn't been anyone with the Potions Master that night. He closed his eyes again, trying to picture ever detail of their arrival.

"Oi! Riddle," came a deep voice to his left.

Tom's face hardened at the familiar voice. He opened his eyes slowly and glared at Ogden Avery as the other boy plopped down in the seat next to him. Avery cast a weary glance around the common room only to find that he and Riddle were alone, save for other members of their little gang. Avery looked back at Tom with questioning eyes.

"What do you want, Avery?" Tom spat, his face hard.

"I was just wondering when we were going to have our next meeting," Avery said, his voice even, "We haven't been plotting as much as usual."

Tom glared at the other boy, picking up the nearly undetectable tone of accusation in the other boys voice, "How dare you come to me! What gives you the right to speak to me like that?"

Tom was standing suddenly, his tall frame shaking with rage at the audacity of the question. Avery cowered in his seat, his eyes wide in fear.

"I meant nothing by it, my Lord," he said hastily, "I was only curious."

The other Slytherin's in the room cowered away from Tom, too. His hard face turned into a malicious smirk. Several of the other boys took a cautious step back from him, the look on his face frightening them.

"You do not come to Lord Voldemort with questions!" Tom hissed in a dangerous tone, "You wait for orders to be given!"

A soft, calm voice broke the pregnant silence that followed, "What Avery is trying to say, my Lord, is that you have been spending an unhealthy amount of time with that Gryffindor whelp."

Tom went still and locked his eyes on the offending boy. Ruggiero Lestrange stood in the middle of the common room, his face blank and calm even though he flinched a bit when Tom's harsh eyes landed on him. Tom turned to face the other boy and the group formed a half circle around the two.

"What?" Tom snapped.

Ruggiero flinched again but quickly gathered his courage, "We have all seen it. Ever since that Mudblood showed up, you've abandoned us."

There was a muttered agreement around the gathering. Tom's eyes flicked to every face. He could plainly see assent in every pair of eyes that faced him. Tom smirked again and took two painfully controlled steps toward Lestrange. The half circle stepped back but miraculously, Lestrange held his ground, even if his eyes widened a touch at the taller boys approach.

"What's it to you, Lestrange?" Tom whispered menacingly.

"It seems to us," Lestrange gestured around the congregation, "That you have forgotten yourself."

There was a loud bang and Ruggiero was suddenly sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Tom's wand hand shook with fury as he lowered it. He stepped over Lestrange's body like it was something dirty and the group made a hasty retreat. Some hid behind chairs, others bent low on the ground before him.

"Are Lestrange's words true?" Tom's voice rang out, chilling the already frigid air of the common room, "Do you all think that I have forgotten my mission?"

Silence greeted his question.

"Anyone who questions me again will get the same as Lestrange," Tom sneered, "Do not come to me or address me like this again. Wait for my orders. And above all things, MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!"

The last command was a venomous roar. It echoed around the stone room and made the other boys cower even lower. Tom cast another angry glance around the room and turned on his heel, leaving the other boys in stunned and frightened silence. He stormed out of the common room and headed for the library. He needed some place quiet to collect himself.

Tom stormed into the library and found it completely empty. He sighed with relief and wandered the aisles, looking for a subject that he had not read upon yet. He found his way to the Magical Theory section and ran his hand over the dusty volumes. He pulled a thick book from the shelves and found his favourite table in the library. It was near the Restricted Section, hidden in the shadows of the very last aisle. He settled into the chair and began to read.

Hours passed. His eyes flew over the words, but his brain only held on to their meaning for a fleeting second before he forgot what it was that he had read. It was like that day after the masquerade all over again. He was just about to shut the book when the sound of the library door made him hesitate. A familiar, comforting voice fluttered to his ear, even thought the speaker was whispering.

"We have to be as careful as we can," Hermione spoke to her companions, no doubt Wazlib and Evans.

"We're just doing innocent research," Evans replied, "For a...homework assignment."

"Oh, I wish I knew where to start," Hermione sighed.

"Can't we just look for time travel or something?" Wazlib suggested.

"I doubt there's a book called _Time Travel 101_,Ron," Hermione chided.

Tom stiffened in his seat. Time travel? He shut his book noiselessly and sat very still, his ears keen on their whispered conversation. 

"It was just a suggestion," Wazlib grumbled, "Do you think we could just ask?"

There was silence and then Wazlib made another muttered response that was too low for Tom to hear. Tom smirked to himself, picturing the withering look that Hermione must have shot Wazlib's way. He could hear their footsteps falling lightly on the stone floor. He tensed. They would come upon him soon. He quickly thought up a convincing lie if he was found and questioned. He opened the book again and fixed his eyes on the pages even as his ears stayed tuned on their conversation.

"Harry, can you check in the Magical Theory section," Hermione instructed quietly, "Ron, try Charms and Curses. I'll look in the History of Magic section. Their might be something useful there."

Tom listened to them split off and took a deep breath. He sat just behind the History of Magic section. He could hear Hermione strolling down the aisle and waited for her to round the corner and find him. He stared hard at the book in front of him, his shoulders tense, waiting for the confrontation. A shadow stretch on the floor to his left. Any second now and she would find him sitting there. He held his breath as the shadow stretch closer to him. He heard hurried footsteps.

"I found this, Hermione," Evans said quietly.

"Excellent, Harry!" he could hear the smile in her whispered tone.

The shadow pulled back and Tom let out the breath he had been holding. He could hear the scrapping of chairs as they sat down at one of the more open tables in the library. Tom shut his book again and stood up, peeking around the corner of his aisle. They sat at the table in the middle of the room, Hermione and Evans had their backs to him and he couldn't see Wazlib at all. He tried for the exit, walking as quietly as he could.

Wazlib rounded a corner, his face focused on a book and Tom ducked quickly into the nearest aisle. He heard another chair scrap across the floor as Wazlib joined the group. The library was silent again save the turning of the pages of the books they were reading. He chanced a glance around the aisle again and frowned. Wazlib was facing him. There was no way he could sneak out of the library now. He pulled back and settled himself on the floor of the aisle, his back against the book case to wait it out.

A sharp snap and a sigh made his weary mind tune in again.

"None of this helps," Hermione whispered furiously, "The only mention of time travel is linked to a Time-Turner."

"There had to be something," Evans said, "We'll just have to keep looking."

Silence fell again.

"Maybe there's something in the Restricted Section," Wazlib suggested, "We could get a note and look in there. They'll have to let us if we say its for a homework assignment, won't they?"

There was a short silence broken by Hermione's excited whisper, "That's a great idea, Ron."

"Always the tone of surprise," Wazlib said in a disgruntled manner.

"I'll ask Professor Slughorn for one in the morning," Hermione said, "I'm sure it will be no trouble at all."

"Of course not," Wazlib replied, "He loves you. He'd probably wear a tea cosy and hop on one leg if you asked him to."

"I doubt he'd go that far," Hermione grimaced.

"So tomorrow, get the note from Slughorn and we'll meet here after classes," Evans said, "We'll figure this out."

Tom heard the scrapping of chairs again and then the doors banged shut. He sat on the floor, his mind reeling with a million questions.

**AN: **OMG! So sorry that it took so bloody long for me to update! I've been very busy lately and am sad to say that I won't be updating as frequently as I have been in the past. Please be patient! I have no plans to abandon this fic. Hope you liked this chapter and stay tuned!


	14. Enough

**AN:** Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **Syrenn**, **MagZ86** and **ItrustSeverusSnape** for the reviews, alerts and favourites!

**Chapter 14: Enough:**

Tom hurried out of the library and straight to the dungeons. He knocked on Professor Slughorn's door urgently. Slughorn opened the door a crack and when he saw Tom, his walrus moustache twitched with delighted surprise.

"Tom, m'boy, come in, come in," he boomed, throwing the door open for him.

"Thank you, Professor," Tom replied politely, stepping into the office.

Slughorn seated himself at his desk and offered Tom the seat across from him. Tom sat, arranging his face into a pleasant blankness.

"What can I do for you, Tom?" Slughorn asked.

"I was wondering if you would give me permission to search the Restricted Section," Tom said, getting straight to the point.

"The Restricted Section?" Slughorn asked, his brow furrowing a bit, "Whatever for?"

"It's for a little personal research," Tom said, "I have an assignment in History of Magic that I've almost completed but would like to check the Restricted Section for any additional information. I'd like to be thorough."

Before Tom had even finished his sentence, Slughorn had taken to his quill and scratched permission onto a piece of parchment and slid it toward Tom. Tom smiled and took the slip of paper and pocketed it.

"Thank you very much, Professor," Tom said.

"Of course," Slughorn boomed genially, "Think nothing of it. I'm sure old Binns will be thrilled with your level of commitment."

Tom nodded, "If you'll excuse me, Professor."

Tom stood up, note in his pocket and headed for the library again. He handed the note to the librarian who looked it over with harsh eyes. She handed him a pass and he walked to the back of the library. The Restricted Section was dark and as he unlocked the gate with his pass, old gas lamps flared to life as he passed them. He wandered the aisles, looking for anything that might be related to time travel. Many titles appealed to him but they had nothing to do with the subject of his search. He took one book entitled, _Experimental Charms and Curses_,off the shelf and scanned through the index. He found the words he was looking for and set the book on the lone table in the place.

He continued his search. There was a book called _Preposterous Myths and Legends of the Magical World_ that he decided to check out for recreational purposes and added it to the other one on the table. He found only one other book that might be of service to him called _Taboo: A Comprehensive Guide To All Things That Shouldn't Be Meddled With_.

He took the three books from the Restricted Section and handed them to the librarian. She scanned his titles and her eyes went wide.

"I have a few projects to complete for History of Magic," Tom explained pleasantly, even adding a smile.

"Take care of these," the librarian said, "They'll be due at the end of term."

"Thank you," Tom said and he exited the library.

* * *

Monday morning found Hermione waiting eagerly for Potions to finish. Tom stared at her blankly as she hastily, but correctly, added ingredients to the mix.

"Are you in a hurry to be somewhere?" Tom asked gently as he watched her practically bouncing in her seat.

"What?" Hermione asked, distracted, "Oh, I just have to ask Professor Slughorn something, that's all."

"Well, do you mind if I handle the knife from now on?" Tom asked as he took the knife from her unsteady hands, "You've been cutting the roots unevenly."

Hermione looked down to see that she had indeed mutilated their daisy roots. Her face turned crimson.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione said.

Tom gave her his crooked smile and began to fix them easily, "It's alright. I think I can save them, but you should stay away from sharp objects when you're this excited."

Hermione blushed again as she watched him correct her hasty mistake. He added the roots and their potion which turned electric blue, just the way it was supposed to. Hermione looked at the clock on Slughorn's desk and her breath came out in a hiss. Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's only been half an hour?" she whined.

"Do you mind if I asked what you're so jittery about?" Tom said smoothly.

"No," Hermione replied.

Tom shook his head but didn't ask her anything further. He was sure that he knew what she wanted to ask Slughorn anyway. She nearly dropped the vial of dragon blood in the cauldron and he sighed. He took her hand and she instantly calmed under his touch. He took the vial from her and added two drops to the potion. It hissed and turned orange. He set the vial down and looked at her, her hand still in his.

"Are you alright?" He asked her softly so that the neighbouring table couldn't hear.

"I'm fine," she answered in a small voice.

"Your question for Slughorn wouldn't have anything to do with the party the other night, would it?" Tom asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Um," Hermione replied, trying to escape his gaze and failing, "Yes?"

"Are you sure that that's the best idea?" Tom asked her.

"I swear to you that I saw someone talking to him," Hermione said, her voice a bit harsher at his accusation.

Tom dropped her gaze and her hand and turned back to their work, "I hear voices and you see things. What a pair we make."

Hermione looked at him, trying to catch his eyes but he didn't look at her for the rest of the class. When the bell rang, it startled her and it took her a second to remember why she had been waiting for class to end. She shoved his last words away and jumped out of her seat toward Slughorn's desk. Tom was the last to the door. He walked out and closed the door, listening at the crack he had left open.

"Professor, can I ask you something?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, Miss Granger," Slughorn replied happily.

"I was wondering..." her voice faltered, as if she had to think about what she was asking, "If you could give me permission to search in the Restricted Section."

Slughorn laughed, "I see you have the same project due in History of Magic?"

Tom cursed silently.

"Er, yes," Hermione replied swiftly, "Has someone already asked you?"

"Mr. Riddle came to me last night," Slughorn laughed again, "You two are the most studious students I have ever had the pleasure to teach. Each of you wants to be the most thorough, have the most information."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, her tone thoughtful.

"Of course there's nothing wrong with that at all," Slughorn said, "You two will do great things. Great things indeed."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said.

Tom moved away from the door quickly and hurried for the stairs where he lounged against the wall. Hermione appeared moments later, her expression just as thoughtful as her previous tone had been. When she reached him, she gave him a long searching look which he answered with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" He asked.

"Did you...," her voice trailed off and he raised his eyebrow at her again, "Never mind. Lets get to class."

"No, what do you want to ask me?" Tom pressed as they walked toward Transfiguration.

"Its nothing, really," Hermione said, "I was just thinking about what you said."

"What I said?" Tom frowned, not expecting the answer.

"Yes...about you hearing voices and me seeing things," Hermione whispered, her heart beating quickly when she though of the last thing he'd said.

"What about it?" Tom asked.

She suddenly stopped walking. He paused and turned toward her.

"What is this, Tom?" she asked abruptly.

The question hung in the air for a brief moment. Tom opened his mouth and Hermione leaned in expectantly, waiting for his answer.

"We'd better get to class before we're late," He replied, walking again.

Hermione stared after him and ran to catch up. They made it to class just before the bell. Tom took a seat across the room from her, with some of his house mates. He hadn't sat with them since the masquerade. She frowned as she sat next to Harry, Ron and Minerva.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked her.

"I got the pass," she replied.

"Great," Harry smiled, "We'll go straight after History of Magic."

"Tom got a note, too," Hermione said in a detached voice.

"What?" Ron asked loudly, causing Minerva to elbow him.

Dumbledore looked over at them and Ron's ears went scarlet and he ducked his head down, as if he were taking notes. Dumbledore continued with his lecture. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh. She looked across the room and saw Tom look away from her quickly. He hadn't answered her question. Somehow that bothered her more than the fact that he had conveniently gotten a pass to the Restricted Section, too. There was no way that he could have known about their desire to search for books there. It had to be a coincidence. And he hadn't answered her question!

Her mind wandered though her memories of the recent past. How he had held her so gently and so close at the masquerade. How he had called her by her first name. When they had been so close to each other that night on patrol. The way he was bending toward her like that...almost as if...as if he had wanted to kiss her. How flustered she had been when Ignatius had interrupted. Then, when Tom took her hand that night and how her heart had raced at that most insignificant and innocent gesture. The night of the party and how good it made her feel when he couldn't take his eyes off of her. And then waking up to his concerned and handsome face after she had fainted. The flowers the next day...

_I hear voices and you see things. What a pair we make._ His voiced echoed perfectly in her mind, the simple sentence mixing with the images in her head. _What a pair we make._

What, indeed! He didn't answer her question! She snarled quietly and Harry, Ron and Minerva all cast her questioning and surprised glances. She made an apologetic face and stared at the blank parchment in front of her, vaguely aware that she should have been taking notes. Her gaze wandered toward Tom again and she smiled to herself when she saw him staring blankly out of the window, the quill in his hand still and obviously forgotten. Was he thinking about her at that moment, too? His eyes met hers and the crooked smile that she absolutely adored softened his features.

The bell rang, making her jump so violently that the table shook where her knees had made contact with it. Ron gave her a questioning look, which she ignored, hastily grabbing her things.

"Do you want to barrow my notes?" Minerva asked as they walked out of class.

"Yes," Hermione smiled, "Thank you."

"You've been really...elsewhere lately," Minerva continued.

"I know," Hermione sighed, heaving her rucksack farther up her shoulder, "It's a bit embarrassing, really."

Tom strode past them and she frowned. He seemed to be avoiding her again. Minerva cast her a sideways glance and turned to watch Tom's retreating figure, as well.

"It's Riddle, isn't it?" she asked.

Hermione nodded slowly and Minerva chuckled.

"I've never seen him like that," Minerva replied.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked the other girl.

"Just that he seems to be as distracted by you as you are by him," Minerva smiled.

"I hope so," Hermione replied firmly, "I don't know how much vital classwork I've missed because of him."

Minerva laughed again, "Like I said, you can barrow my notes."

* * *

Hermione sank into the chair with a frustrated grunt. Ron cast her a weary glance as Harry leaned back in his chair.

"I can't believe that there wasn't one book in there that ever looked remotely helpful," Hermione whispered furiously.

"You said that Riddle also got a pass," Harry whispered back.

Hermione nodded, "That's what Slughorn said."

"Isn't it a bit perfect that Riddle got a pass the same night that we decided to check?" Ron asked.

"How could he have known, Ron?" Hermione snapped.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged, "Maybe he used his evil to pick up on it."

"He's not evil," Hermione shot back.

The librarian shushed them and Hermione stood up, the boys mirroring her. They followed her into the corridor and all three instinctively headed for the seventh floor corridor.

* * *

"What's with you lately?" Ron asked when they entered their familiar sanctuary.

"Gee, I don't know, Ronald," Hermione said with heavy sarcasm, "It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the present situation."

"So back to the manner at hand," Harry intervened, sensing a fight brewing, "Do you think that Riddle could have taken anything linked to our needs from the library?"

"I already said," Hermione hissed, "He can't have done because there is no way that he could have known."

"Why are you so quick to defend him," Ron asked sourly.

"Because I've been forced to take the time to get to know him," Hermione snipped, "And I have come to find that he's quite a gentleman...not that you would know anything about that."

"The odds aren't in his favour, Hermione," Harry added carefully.

Hermione wheeled on him, "You're biased! You both are!"

"Let me tell you a story about a kettle and a cauldron," Ron began.

"Shut up, Ron!" Hermione exploded, "If you two don't like it, you can take a running jump!"

Her voice rang in the silence that followed. Harry sighed, that horribly patient sigh that he had adopted lately and pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses.

"Hermione," Harry said, "Maybe you should...stay away from Riddle from now on."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She snapped it shut with an audible sound and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. Angry tears burned her eyes.

"What good will that do now, Harry?" She asked, her voice quiet but clearly implying that the damage had already been done.

"You were right," Harry shook his head, "I shouldn't have asked you to do this. It's gotten out of hand."

She glared at him fiercely.

"What Harry's saying is," Ron said softly, "Is that we didn't expect you to..."

He let the sentence die before he could finish it.

"To what?" Hermione asked, a tiny flicker of poetic justice burned into being in her stomach.

"You know..." Ron shrugged, unable to say the words, the pain of the truth in them still tugged at him.

"No, I don't believe I do, Ron," Hermione said, a cruel smile tugging at the edges of her mouth, "Why don't you tell me?"

Ron flinched and took a step back as if she had slapped him. He wouldn't meet her gaze and she felt absurdly triumphant.

"Well?" she pressed.

"That's enough!" Harry snapped at her.

"You're right," Hermione replied, suddenly ashamed, "It is enough."

She turned her back on them and left the room. She needed to find him and settle things once and for all because if she could, she could somehow make her life work again. 


	15. Truth

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie **and**MagZ86 **for the reviews!

**Chapter 15: Truth:**

Hermione hurtled down the corridors in no particular direction. She was fighting the overwhelming guilt that burned in her stomach. She had been horribly unfair to Ron. He hadn't deserved that. She was angry and appalled by how easy the words had flowed from her lips. She knew the words would hurt him, knew it and said it anyway. She would apologise later but first she had a score to settle. 

The sound of the clock told her that it was dinner time and she headed for the Great Hall. She wasn't hungry, no, the guilt drove that away, but maybe Tom would be there. She stopped just inside of the door and did a quick but thorough scan of the hall. He wasn't there. She turned and made a run for it as Harry and a sulking Ron made their way down the grand staircase.

It took her a minuet to realise that she had fled down the staircase that lead to the dungeons. Maybe one of the Slytherins would be able to tell her where Tom was. She snorted at the ludicrous thought but kept walking anyway. It wasn't long before she made a wrong turn and got lost. She had wandered far deeper into the sub-level of the castle than she had ever been before.

She turned down another corridor and met a dead end formed by uncarved rock. Where in Merlin's name was she? She turned back the way she had come, her pulse racing for no reason that she could discern. It wasn't like she was in any real danger at school. An almost hysterical laugh was pulled from her throat as she remembered all of the danger that she, Harry and Ron had met in their own time while they were at Hogwarts. No real danger, indeed!

"What are you doing down here, Mudblood?" came an unfriendly voice from just ahead of her.

She snapped her head to the side to see a very broad shouldered boy whom she recognised to be Jasper Nott, a sixth year, Slytherin boy. He stood in the middle of the corridor that she needed to go through to get back, barring her retreat. She looked behind her to see the blocked corridor that she had just escaped from. Jasper Nott had a nasty smile on his face. She swallowed hard as he took a step toward her.

"I asked you a question, filth," Nott snarled, his hand digging around in his robes, looking for his wand.

Hermione froze, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. He had his wand on her, now. _Come on, Hermione, move_! Her own voice screamed at her in her mind. She couldn't. Why was it so hard? He was just another student like her. But something about the way he moved, the cruelness of his smile, reminded her of the brutal Death Eaters of her time. 

"Not..." Hermione choked past her pulse, "Not a Mudblood."

"What was that?" Nott snapped.

"I'm not a Mudblood," Hermione managed a calmer tone, "I'm a half-blood."

"You're still half a Muggle," he sneered, "It's just as dirty..."

"NO!" Hermione yelled.

Nott smiled wider, his wand poised to strike. She backed into the wall and winced as a loud bang echoed in the corridor. Her eyes widened as Nott went sailing past her with the force of the spell. He landed hard against the wall, twenty feet form her, blood trickling from his mouth as if he's been physically punched.

"Move, damn it," said a fierce snarl from her right.

Hermione faced her saviour. Tom stood in the middle of the corridor, directly where Nott had been moments earlier. His tall frame shook with rage. Hermione ran to his side and he grabbed her hand, pulling her through the labyrinth of corridors with ease. When they came to the Potions corridor, Tom dropped her hand. He stopped and spun on her.

"What were you doing down there, Hermione?" he hissed.

She flinched at his tone, "I got lost."

He stared at her, waiting for the rest.

"I was looking for you," she finished.

"Well you found me," Tom growled, his temper still not under control.

"Thank you," she said in a small voice, "What would he have done to me?"

Tom calmed enough to roll his eyes, "Nott? Nothing too horrible, I'm sure. He can hardly perform a simple Stunning spell...well, it could have been bad because of his lack of skill, actually..."

"We need to talk," Hermione said, "Now, if not sooner."

"Then talk," Tom said.

"Someplace private," Hermione shook her head, "Somewhere no one can overhear."

* * *

Tom lounged against the wall as he watched Hermione pace in front of a blank stretch of wall on the seventh floor. Once, twice, three times. His eyebrow rose when a door carved itself into the once blank wall. She opened the door and waited for him to walk through it. She closed the door and was stunned by the smirk on his face when she stole a glance at him. Bewildered, she turned to face the room. The blood rushed to her head so quickly that her vision blurred. Her face catching fire.

"This is..." Tom began, his voice amused, "Definitely private."

The room had turned itself into a lavish hotel-like suite. A king sized, four poster bed stood against the right hand wall on a raised dais. The frame was made of a dark wood and intricate vines and roses carved into it. The sheets and duvet were a rich silver and looked soft. A matching wing back love-seat stood in the middle of the room facing the roaring fireplace. A few bookcases were scattered around the room. Tom was staring at her horrified expression, fighting off a wide grin.

"What do you call this place?" Tom asked as he sat down on the too small couch.

"Hell," Hermione murmured to herself before she answered his question, "The Room of Requirement. It appeared when a person needs it and is _usually _equipped for the seekers needs. You need to pass in front of the wall three times and think of what you need very clearly before you can access it."

"And what, may I ask, were you thinking of to yield this?" Tom asked, his voice still terribly amused.

"I just that we needed some place private, somewhere no one would bother us," Hermione blushed.

What she didn't tell him was that a rather unscrupulous thought about him had snuck into her mind as she asked the room for what they needed. She stood near the door and looked at him as he sat so innocently on the love-seat and the aforementioned thought passed through her head again. Her cheeks burned and she shoved the thought away. Tom shifted his position on the love-seat and gestured to the open space beside him.

"Sit down, then," he said, his crooked smile on his face, "I promise I won't bite."

Hermione gave him a searching look but crossed the room to join him anyway.

"So, what did you want to speak to me about?" Tom asked.

Hermione leaned against the arm of the sofa and tried to collect her scattered thoughts. What did she want to say, again? His nearness distracted her. They were so close that she could feel his body heat against her skin. She had the strongest urge to lay her head on his shoulder. Tom waited in patient silence.

"You never answered my question," she said finally.

"Which one would that be?" he asked.

"What this is," she said, her voice soft, "This...between you...and me."

It was Tom's turn to be silent. Hermione started to fidget with the hem of her robes, waiting for him to answer. It was a good question. Tom gave her a quick side glance and made his decision. He was going to be truthful with her...something he had never been in all of his life.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said, "I've never...felt this before. You've turned my world upside down. I was so sure of myself before you showed up."

Hermione watched him in stunned silence.

"I can tell you one thing," Tom smiled the smile that she loved, "I haven't been able to concentrate on my studies. You're all I can think of. You're all I can see, even when I close my eyes...in my sleep...every minuet of ever day."

"Me too," Hermione breathed.

Tom shook his head, "Where are you from?"

"What?" Hermione gasped.

Tom looked at her then, his eyes locked with hers and refused to let her go, "Where are you from, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione opened her mouth, as her mind tried to form a plausible lie.

"You can tell me," Tom said, "I can keep a secret better than anyone."

She believed that one. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for the conversation.

"I'm from the future," she said quietly, "Your future."

Tom's eyes took on a greedy gleam as he looked at her. It reminded Hermione of the look she had seen on many of the Death Eaters faces and made her heart ache to see it in his eyes.

"Am I powerful?" Tom asked, his expression eager.

"Oh yes," Hermione said sadly, "Powerful...and terrible."

She locked eyes with him again and let the pain and suffering that she had been though flood her eyes. Tom's forehead creased at the agonising look in her eyes. He reached for her, suddenly wanting to chase the pain away. His hand froze in the air and Hermione reached for his hand. She grasped at it and squeezed it tightly in hers. The pain didn't leave. In fact, it grew worse. Tom's heart suddenly beat to a faster tempo.

"You're a murderer, in my time," Hermione whispered, her voice hoarse with a million different emotions, "We were fighting you, Harry, Ron and I, when we got sent here."

"But you're so young," Tom said.

Hermione smiled humorlessly, "I'm older than you. I'm 18. We were looking for the last Horcrux when we ended up here."

"Horcrux?" Tom asked, the term unfamiliar to him.

"They're Dark Magic," Hermione explained, "They're created when someone puts a piece of their soul into an object so that if the person's body is destroyed, a piece of them lives on. You made seven."

"How do you split your _soul_ into pieces?" Tom asked and Hermione was pleased to hear the tiny note of odium in his voice.

"Murder," Hermione replied, "When someone kills, it rips their soul into pieces."

Tom was staring at her in quiet contemplation.

"Have you seen the scar on Harry's forehead?" Hermione asked.

Tom nodded once, "I always wondered how Evans got it."

"His real last name is Potter and you killed his parents when he was one," Hermione rushed on, "You tried to kill him too, but his mother had sacrificed herself to protect him so the curse bounced off of him. You lost your body that night but because you made so many Horcruxes, you lived on."

"How many people did I kill?" he asked gently.

"Hundreds," Hermione sighed, squeezing his suddenly freezing hand, "At least seven personally and the others on your orders. You had followers, they called themselves Death Eaters."

Tom flinched. Followers. He was already headed down this horrible path that Hermione was painting. Hermione looked at him when he flinched and he sighed.

"I have a group of...admirers," Tom said, "We call ourselves the Knights of Walpurgis."

"And you're the leader," Hermione announced, "That's them, Tom. They're the future Death Eaters and their children will follow after them. They'll be raised to hate and kill Muggle borns and anyone else who can't prove their magical ancestry."

Tom looked at her suddenly, he took his hand from hers and placed it gently on her cheek, "You won't have to worry. You're a half-blood and I'll protect you."

Hermione pulled away from him as if he's stung her. She was suddenly on her feet and yards away from him. He blinked up at her in confusion as tears flooded her eyes.

"I'm a Muggle born, Tom!" She shouted at him, "I'm a Mudblood!"

Her words echoed in the room. His face went blank as he stared at her. She laughed harshly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You hate me now, don't you," she said, her tone accusatory and harsh, "I bet you wish you'd let Nott curse me now, huh? Me, a filthy Mudblood. Go on then, curse me! I won't even try to stop you."

She threw her arms out wide, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her face set into angry lines as tears flowed down her cheeks. Tom stood up slowly and walked toward her. She caught her breath as he stopped mere centimetres in front of her. She clenched her jaw as his burning blue eyes bore into hers. It happened so fast that she didn't even realise what was happening. His right arm encircled her waist and crushed her against his body as his left hand found her chin and forced it up. His mouth descended upon hers, urgent but surprisingly soft. She went stiff in his arms as her brain scrambled to make sense of what was going on.

When her mind finally caught up, she was kissing him back. Her own arms winding around him, pulling him tighter against her body. She stood on her toes and pressed their mouths more firmly together. The hand that Tom had under her chin found its way into the bushy mass of her hair, his fingers massaging the back of her skull as he cradled her head. She could feel his heart beat against her chest and its pace matched her own hearts frantic dance. He broke the kiss first, his breath coming out in a soft chuckle. He leaned his forehead against hers.

"I don't understand," Hermione murmured.

"Nor do I," Tom smirked, "But I do understand this; I won't hurt _you_ Hermione. Whatever path I was starting down has been eradicated. I couldn't stand the look in your eyes when you spoke of your time...and knowing that it was my fault...you're my path now."

Hermione smiled up at him but it quickly melted away as another spasm of pain crossed her features. _Leave or we will make you leave_. Said a deep voice in her head. Tom frowned at the look on her face and gently cupped her face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"I'll have to leave," Hermione said, "Tom, I can't stay in this time...remember that night at the party...when I fainted."

He nodded.

"There was...something...at the party that night," she explained, "When I asked about that man speaking to Slughorn...it all makes sense why you couldn't see him...why no one else but me could. He came for me. He gave me a warning. He said that I didn't belong here and that I had to leave or they would make me leave...but I don't want to leave...I want to stay here with you."

A tear fell from her eye and Tom pulled her into his arms again. She clung to him and fought the tears. He stroked her hair as he held her, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"We'll find a way," Tom said.

She pulled away from her enough to look at her, "I have a confession to make...I overheard your conversation in the library the other day and I got a pass to the Restricted Section..."

A horrified look crossed her face, "Oh no..."

"What?" Tom asked, confused.

"Oh, they were right and I acted so horrible to them!" Hermione ranted, pulling away from him, "Did you take anything out?"

"Yes," Tom nodded, "I'll let you look at them, if you want."

His voice wounded a bit at the end. She turned back to him and took his hand.

"We'll find a way," Hermione repeated his words to him, "But first we have to find out what we're dealing with."

Tom nodded, "I suppose we need to find Evans and Wazlib now?"

"Yes," Hermione said, "I need to set some things right."

"I'll be there beside you," Tom reassured her, "For as long as you need."

They walked out of the room then, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came their way.

* * *

**AN:** Well there it is folks, the much desired first kiss. I hope if was acceptable. Stay tuned for the next!


	16. Learning Curve

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86**, **mylove24**, **Felkin**, **BDSanta2001**, **irene0222**, **The Oh So Bored One**, **Vera-Sabe**, **Swiften **and **Of Reminiscence** for the reviews, alerts and favorites!

**Chapter 16: Learning Curve:**

Harry and Ron were sitting in the library, pouring over a stack of books that might contain any shred of information on time travel. It was a short stack.

"Do you think we could just use a Time-Turner?" Ron sighed, closing the book he had been scanning through.

"Somehow I don't think it would be that easy," Harry frowned, closing his own tome, "Whatever brought us here was a spell and a powerful and advanced one as well. The person who conjured it had to have learned it from somewhere."

Ron's face paled, "Harry, you don't think that the book we need could be somewhere else, do you? Maybe it's in Knockturn Alley or something...a spell like that can't exactly be good, can it?"

Harry's frown deepened, "I didn't think about that."

Ron opened his mouth to say something else when the door to the library opened and Hermione and Tom walked in. Ron snapped his mouth shut, his lips pressed together in a grim and hostile line. His face hardened all the more when he caught sight of Hermione's hand firmly entwined with Riddle's. Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the sight, but he didn't say anything. The couple stopped in front of them, Hermione offering the boys a sheepish smile while Riddle gazed at them impassively. Ron opened his mouth again, looking murderous and Hermione forestalled him with her own words.

"Look," she began quietly, "You were right and I'm sorry. I know I was a cow and I apologize for that, too."

Ron still looked scandalized but nodded at her, turning his angry gaze on Riddle instead, "And what is he doing here, then?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation, but having just apologized for her horrible behaviour earlier, bit back her snappish reply, "This is the way it's going to be from now on, Ron, so please, try your best to get used to it."

"You said we were right," Harry said, "What exactly were we right about."

Hermione opened her mouth but Riddle cut her off, "I was eavesdropping on your conversation the other day and I got a pass to the Restricted Section."

"Told you," Ron said imperiously.

Hermione cast him a sharp look, "Anyway, Tom has agreed to let us borrow the books he checked out."

"Well wasn't that nice of him," Ron rolled his eyes.

Tom glared daggers at the other boy and Ron returned it just as nastily, "Don't be a sour loser, Wazlib."

Ron rose out of his seat so quickly that it clattered to the floor with a loud bang. Harry was on his feet in a flash, his hand gripping Ron's wand arm. Tom stood perfectly still, smirking all over his handsome face. The librarian appeared out of thin air, her eyes hard and angry.

"Is there a problem here?" she hissed.

"None at all, ma'am," Tom said pleasantly, his face still painted with the ghost of a smirk.

The librarian looked between them, her eyebrows knit together in a furious expression, "In any case, get out. It's almost curfew. And pick up that chair, young man!"

She watched them as Ron jerked the chair into its upright position, gathering his things with more force than necessary. He stocked out of the library and Harry hurried after him. Hermione broke away from Tom and rushed out to meet her friends. Tom frowned after her but followed, more slowly than he normally would have. The library door slammed shut behind him. Hermione and the others were already halfway down the corridor. He lagged behind on purpose, seeing the look of agony on Hermione's face.

"Ron," Hermione said gently, trying to catch his arm, "Ron, please listen..."

"No, you listen, Hermione," Ron rounded on her, "Honestly, how could you love _him_? After everything he's done to us? How can you chose him over me?"

She winced as if he's slapped her, his words piercing her heart, "I don't know Ron...It just feels...right. And he hasn't done anything bad yet..."

"_Yet_," Ron repeated, "Do you honestly think that you can change him? Make him better? He's _evil_, Hermione and you're just a distraction. What do you think will happen when he loses interest in you? When the novelty wears off?"

"Ron," Harry said sharply and Hermione looked at him with clouded eyes, almost as if she'd forgotten he was standing there.

"It's alright, Harry," Hermione said in a defeated tone, not having enough emotional strength to argue anymore, "I've made a mess out of everything. I deserve this."

"You lied to me," Ron said, his voice losing its venom or any emotion at all, "You said you wouldn't fall for his tricks and you did. I thought you were better than that, Hermione."

His last words fell on her like a physical blow and she actually staggered backwards. Ron shook his head, and the look in his eyes made her own eyes sting. It wasn't anger or hatred, which she expected and would have been able to deal with, no, she saw raw and deeply agonizing disappointment in his eyes. As he turned away, the parting glance of disappointment made Hermione's heart break. She felt as though a tiny piece of her heart had been torn from the rest of it, felt it like a scalding weight in her chest. Harry started toward her, his hand outstretched but she just shook her head. He dropped his hand and she turned away from him. He hesitated for a moment before he turned and walked toward the dungeons.

Tom detached himself from the wall where he had been watching the whole scene with quiet contemplation. He walked toward her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She hung her head and wouldn't look at him. Her body shook violently with silent sobs and in the dim light of the corridor, a steady drip of tears would glitter as they fell to the floor. Tom pulled her into the circle of his arms and allowed her to cling to him as she cried. After a couple of minuets, her pain turned to rage and she pushed him away from her. He staggered backwards, unprepared for her sudden attack. He cast her a bewildered look.

"Why did you have to do that?" She hissed.

Tom stood up straight and smoothed out his robes, "Do what?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

"You know what!" She snapped, "Why did you have to be such an unpleasant git to him?"

"Because he's competition," Tom explained simply.

"No, he isn't," Hermione shook her head, "He hasn't been for a while now and you know it!"

Tom opened his mouth but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't deny it!" She charged on, "You knew that we broke up ages ago and you knew that I was falling in love with you ever since the masquerade!"

Tom closed his mouth and looked at her, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you to _say _anything," Hermione replied, "What I want you to do is try to get along with my friends and if you can't do that, at least keep your snide remarks to yourself!"

"I'm sorry," he replied and it sounded honest, "But I'm new at this, Hermione. I told you that I've never felt like this before. I've never liked anyone enough to be jealous..."

Hermione looked at him, mouth agape, "You're jealous?"

"Of course I am," Tom shook his head, as if it were hard for him to admit and it probably was, "I see how close you are to them and I can't help feeling...inadequate. When I see how physically close you get to them, I don't know, it sets my stomach on fire and all I seem to want to do is hurt them."

Hermione shook her head and walked back to him, putting her arms around his lean waist. She hugged him to her and he hesitated for a brief second before he hugged her back.

"You don't have to be jealous," Hermione said softly, "They're my best friends...and that's all they'll ever be. In another time, maybe Ron and I would have been more...in fact, we were just starting to try...but then I came here and I met you and I know that there is no one else I would rather be with."

"Really?" Tom whispered into her hair.

"Really," she smiled, looking up at him, "Now, will you please try to behave?"

"I can't promise anything," Tom said, his face inches from hers now, "But I'll try for you, if it makes you happy."

"Thank you," Her words were a whisper against his lips.

* * *

The next day, Hermione sat in her usual spot next to Ron and Minerva. Ron wouldn't look at her and Minerva was casting questioning glances between them.

"Ron, please," Hermione said finally, dropping her fork onto her plate.

"What?" Ron asked glumly.

"Can we not do this?" she asked, "Please?"

"Do what?" Ron asked.

"I don't want to lose your friendship over something that I can't help," Hermione replied, "Honestly, you're acting as if I wanted this to happen."

"Didn't you?" Ron looked at her then.

"No, I didn't," Hermione replied, letting the truth of her words fill her eyes as she held his gaze, "But it has and I can't stop it and I don't want this to come between us. Every time I've fought with you, it's hurt. I couldn't stand the thought that I might lose you forever."

"You actually mean that," Ron said, surprise plain in his voice.

"I do," Hermione nodded, "And you know I love you...but I'm not in love with you."

"I know," Ron sighed, "I just wish that was enough."

Hermione put her hand over his and he took hold of it with a squeeze. She returned the pressure with a smile.

"I'm sorry about what I said last night," Ron said.

"Don't apologize, Ron," Hermione shook her head, "You had ever right to say those things. Godric knows that I deserved much worse."

"So he's really going to be handing around now?" Ron asked, trying his hardest to keep the disapproval out of his voice.

She nodded, "And he promised me that he'll try to play nice and I'm hoping you will do the same."

Ron sighed, "I guess I can return the favor."

"That's all I ask," Hermione smiled again, "Now, we're going to meet in the Room of Requirement tonight after our patrol."

"Got it," Ron nodded, "This is going to be interesting, to say the least."

* * *

The second floor, again. Hermione was really starting to hate her half-baked plan of keeping the Chamber of Secrets safe from Tom. He was standing in the middle of the hall, his head tilted to the side, listening to the basilisk calling to him. She might as well tell him.

"It's a basilisk," she said abruptly.

"What?" Tom asked.

"That voice you keep hearing is a basilisk," Hermione explained, taking his hand and pulling him down the hall.

"Why is it down there?" Tom asked, allowing himself to be lead away.

"Because one thousand years ago Slytherin decided to throw a tantrum like a child who didn't get his way and built the Chamber of Secrets and hid it there so that one day his heir would come to the school and let it loose to kill all of the Muggle-borns," Hermione ranted.

"Throw a tantrum like a child who didn't get his way?" Tom repeated, an amused smirk on his face, "That's one way of putting it, I suppose. But what does that have to do with me?"

"Because you're the heir," Hermione sighed.

"Oh," Tom replied and his simple response made her stop and look at him.

"That's it? Just 'oh'?" she asked.

He shrugged gracefully, "I suppose that would explain why I'm able to speak to snakes and why I was sorted into Slytherin even though I'm a half-blood."

"Yes," Hermione nodded and he didn't miss the weary look in her eyes.

"I did something bad with that information, didn't I?" he asked her.

She nodded, "You opened the Chamber at the end of this year and killed a girl."

"Who?" Tom asked out of morbid curiosity.

"Well, in our time we called her Moaning Myrtle," Hermione shrugged, "She's a Ravenclaw."

"Myrtle Jones?" Tom replied, "Why would I kill her? She's just an insignificant...oh...right."

"An insignificant what?" Hermione asked.

"Girl," Tom replied, "She's hardly a threat, is she?"

"But you weren't going by who posed the biggest threat to you," Hermione said, "You were going by blood status."

"Is she a Muggle-born?" Tom asked offhandedly, "I didn't know."

"I guess you could say her death was an accident," Hermione proceeded weakly, because she knew it was no accident, "I don't think you knew she was in there...at least that's the way it sounded when she told us about it."

"Why were you asking?" Tom inquired.

"Because the Chamber was opened again in our second year," Hermione replied, "And there were attacks on Muggle-borns. We were trying to stop it."

"But it couldn't have been me," Tom frowned, "Wasn't I gone by then?"

"Sort of," Hermione nodded, "Remember what I told you about Horcruxes? Well it was through one of those that you were able to open the Chamber again."

"How?" Tom looked confused.

"The piece of your soul possessed someone, Harry's girlfriend, Ron's sister, to be exact," Hermione began.

"No wonder they hate me," Tom said, the amusement not well disguised.

"She opened the Chamber while under your influence and you almost killed her before Harry stopped you and killed the basilisk," Hermione continued, "He destroyed the vessel that held your soul and Ginny woke up."

"What about the other victims?" Tom asked, "Was the school closed once students started turning up dead?"

"No one died," Hermione replied.

"But you said the basilisk..." Tom began.

"They were petrified only," Hermione explained, "By some miracle, all of the victims only saw the basilisk's reflection. They were given Mandrake juice and everyone was alright...including me."

"What?" Tom asked, his face drained of colour.

"I was one of the victims," Hermione nodded.

She was suddenly crushed in his embrace. She smiled slightly and held him back. Maybe telling him the truth of what he would have done was a better idea than she had thought it was. He seemed truly horrified by her descriptions of the future he was headed for.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Tom whispered furiously into her hair, "Not even me."

"It's alright, Tom," she whispered, "You haven't done anything yet."

"And I won't," Tom replied firmly, "Not if it means that I could hurt you."

Hermione couldn't be sure, but the last sounded like it hurt him to say. She decided that she had imagined the pain in his voice and pulled away from him.

"We have a meeting to attend," she said.

"This will be interesting," Tom said.

Hermione started as the words that Ron had said earlier in the day were repeated by Tom now. He reached for her hand and she gave it to him.

* * *

**AN: **Sorry for the lack of updates, I hope this quells your thirst. I'll try to update soon but I'm not promising anything. Stay turned, everyone!


	17. Information

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **Bobbyb52**, **MagZ86**, **BDSanta2001** and **The Oh So Bored One** for the alerts, favorites and reviews!

**Chapter 17: Information:**

The rucksack hit the mahogany cofee table with a heavey _thud_. Upon contact, two books peeked out of the open canvas of the bag, jarred out of their resting place by the impact. Tom lounged on an elegant, silver upholstered sofa next to Hermione, his arm laying caually on the back of the sofa behind her. Ron kept casting dark looks at Riddle from his seat across from Hermione but kept his mouth shut. Harry leaned over the table and plucked one of the books from Tom's rucksack and glanced at the title.

"_Experimental Charms and Curses_," He read aloud, "Have you read any of it?"

"I haven't looked at any of the books," Tom replied, "I haven't had time."

"Probably because you were too busy developing your plan for the hostile take-over of the Wizarding World," Ron muttered.

"Ron," Hermione hissed a warning.

Tom only looked at him with an amused smirk on his face, letting his arm slip from the back of the couch, allowing it to rest across Hermione's shoulders. She leaned into him, unconsciously. Ron's ears flush a dark red. Harry shook his head and turned to the index, looking for time travel. He found several entries and turned to the first one mentioned.

"What does it say, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"This one is just a charm to go back a couple of minuets in time," Harry shook his head and flipped the page, his eyes rushing across the passage, "The next one is a curse to send your apponant into the middle of last week."

Tom chuckled, "That could be useful."

"Not if you wanted to go mental," Harry shook his head, "The person who was sent back would have to avoid themselves until the second after the initial attack happened otherwise they'd think they'd gone mad...it seems it didn't have a very pleasent affect on the attacker, either."

The page turned again and a short silence followed, "This sounds close to what happened with us...no wait, this is for going into the future."

Harry read through three more entries without reading the passages aloud. A sharp intake of breath let them all know that he had found the one they were looking for.

"This is it," Harry said, "'_Antecessum_'."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, waiting for the word to make something happen. When nothing did, she let the breath go in a ratteling sigh.

"That could have been an incatation, Evans," Tom said, "It was very careless of you to say the word aloud."

"Right, sorry," Harry replied, his eyes flying over the page again, "It was an incantation, but it wasn't the entire spell..."

Tom frowned at him and held out his hand for the book. Harry looked at him warily before reluctantly handing him the book. Tom's dark eyes roamed over the page slowly, taking in the meaning of the words. He handed the book back to Harry with a thin crease between his dark brows.

"That is a very complex spell," Tom said appreciatingly, "But I find it very disconcerting to see that there are no warnings or notes on this spell as there have been with the others."

"I agree," Harry said, "It's almost like the person who preformed this spell was somehow prevented from recording its effects."

"That doesn't sound good at all," Ron looked green.

"What does it say exactly?" Hermione asked.

He handed her the book and she took it from his hands. The binding of the book was worn and smooth with age. She held it carefully, as if it would crumble in her hands. She read the passage slowly, as Tom had.

_Antecessum, _

_A spell to take one to the past using an object as a vessel in the manner of a Portkey and a contact already in the past._

Hermione looked up from the text, her eyebrows furrowed, "How can anyone have a contact already in the past?"

"That's what makes it a complex spell," Tom shook his head, "It seems like the contact from the past needs to already know about the future..."

"Which means that someone from the future had to have already gone back..." Hermione said.

"What?" Ron asked, "How does that make _any_ sense?"

"It doesn't," Tom replied shortly.

"Thanks for clearing that up," Ron snapped back.

Hermione kept reading.

_The contact in the past preforms the spell and sends the object to the future where the present caster banishes the object. Once the object has been banished, the present caster must search for the place where the time rift has opened. The time rift itself looks like a golden mist and must be touched by the present caster in order to be taken back to the past._

"None of that makes any sense!" Hermione snapped, "This spell is impossible!"

Harry, who had been reading the second book in Tom's bag, _Taboo: A Comprehensive Guide To All Things That Shouldn't Be Meddled With_, cleared his throat.

"The spell isn't impossible, apparently," Harry said, "It's mentioned in this book, but all that it say is that horrible consequences await the caster of that spell. It doesn't go into detail."

Hermione snapped _Experimental Charms and Curses _shut and dropped it onto the table. Harry closed the other book and laid it on top of the other one.

"That was useless," Hermione shook her head, "All we know is that _Antecessum_ is the spell that sent us here but we don't know who cast it or why!"

"And more importantly," said Ron, "We don't know how to undo it, which, may I remind you, is the whole reason for the research."

"Was that all you took out of the library, Tom?" Hermione asked.

"That was everything I took out concerning time travel, yes," Tom nodded, "The other book is just for recreation."

Hermione sighed and suggled a little closer to Tom, who wound his arm around her a little tigher, holding her close to his side.

"Ron did bring up a valid point," Harry said, "What we need might be somewhere outside of the school."

Hermione groaned, "This is turning out to be another endless Horcrux chase."

"_Hermione_," Ron hissed at her, casting an obvious glance at Tom.

"He knows," Hermione replied, "I told him the truth."

"Are you _mental_?" Ron said each word slowly.

"Apparently," was all that Hermione said.

"Don't worry, Wazlib," Tom said smoothly, the gloating smirk back on his face, "I won't do anything that will hurt Hermione...now you on the other hand...," he broke off with a graceful half shrug.

"Tom," Hermione said softly by way of a warning.

He just gave her a pleasently blank face.

"Since you know the truth, or something close to it," Harry said, "I think you should call us by our real surnames."

"I'd rather not," Tom said with finality.

"Fine," Harry sighed, "Have it your own way."

"Oh, I do, Evans," Tom said pleasently, "Frequently, in fact."

Harry shook his messy head and heaved a heavy sigh, "It's getting late. We should all turn in."

"But what do we do about getting back?" Hermione asked.

Tom looked down at her quickly. She looked back at him with apologetic eyes.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "For now, I guess we just have to let things happen as they happen. That's all we can do."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione replied, "I don't particularly fancy that idea but it's the only choice we have...at least until we have an opprotunity to leave the school..."

"Which will never happen," Ron cut in, "You said that Shadow-thing said we had until the end of the year, right?"

Hermione suppressed a shudder and nodded.

"That's only four weeks away," Ron added.

Hermione's heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Beside her, Tom went ridgid. Was he thinking the same thing that she was? That their time together was running out quicker than they had anticipated? She fought the urge to look up at him, not trusting her reaction at the moment. Ron was looking at her with a frown and Harry with a brotherly concern. Harry stood up and stretched wide.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Harry announced needlessly, "Ron?"

"What?" Ron asked.

"Aren't you tired?" Harry said with a heavey hint.

"No, I'm not," Ron replied mulishly.

"But I think you are," Harry continued, "The circles under your eyes look like bruises."

"I hear under eye circles are in for winter," Ron said.

Harry grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the door. Hermione pretended not to notice, staring at the fire instead. She heard a furious whispered argument and a muffled "_ouch" _before the door shut and the room fell into a thick silence, the only sound the crackle of the flames behind the grate. Tom withdrew his arm from around her shoulders and clasped his hands in his lap.

"Four weeks," Hermione finaly choked out, her voice small.

Beside her, she saw Tom nod once. She turned and looked at his profile. His jaw was set and his eyes were staring into space, his expression fierce. She reached out for him, throwing all her previous shyness and caution to the wind. Four weeks was a very short time and she wanted to spend all of it with Tom. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him as much as possible before their time ran out. _Before their time ran out_, it sounded like one of them was going to die. Hermione shuddered at the despicale thought.

Her hand touch his where they lay clasped tightly together in his lap. His hands were freezing and white, as if he were holding them together too hard. He turned toward her, his eyes harsh but they softened when they took in her face. He unclasped his hands and placed one on her cheek. She leaned into the pressure of it, the coolness of it felt good against her suddenly hot face.

"What are we going to do?" Tom asked gently.

"I know what I plan to do," Hermione said, shifting her position on the sofa so that her legs were curled underneath her.

Two bright spots of colour appeared on Tom's high cheek bones as she leaned toward him. She placed one hand on the back of the sofa to steady herself as she leaned into him. Her lips brushed his gently, her other hand on his face, turning to toward her own. He responded with a fierce need, pulling her down toward him so quickly that she lost her balance. Tom caught her easily, managing to pull her into his lap without much difficulty. When the kiss broke, she could see the room beyond from her new position in his lap with perfect clarity.

The room had changed itself during the kiss. It had become their private room from the day before. Her face burned and Tom turned his head to the side to see what she was looking at. A soft chuckle escaped his throat. Hermione turned her eyes back to him, a humiliated smile on her lips. Tom planted a gentle kiss on her lips and stood up.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, bemused.

Tom made a rather theatrical show of stretching before he extended his hand toward her, "I'm going to bed."

Hermione stared at his hand and felt an illicit smile flood across her face before she could stop it. She took his hand and he pulled her up from her seat. She allowed herself to be lead to the large and inviting bed as her mind began a frantic war, half embarrassed and disapproving and half excited and expectant. The logical side of her mind, where the embarrassment and disapproval lived had a minuet to be victorious before the press of Tom's lips against hers drove all logical thought from her mind.

* * *

**AN: **Well there you go, another new chapter posted! _Antecessum _loosely translates to "to go before" as in time and space, just so you all know. Also, I feel the need to say that I don't necessarily approve of the end of this chapter but that's what the characters wanted and so that's what they got...I'm sure you can all use your imaginations as to what happened. Stay tuned for the next! Reviews are love!


	18. Fissures

**AN:** Thank you from the bottom of my heart to**stsgirlie**, **BDSanta2001**, **MagZ86**, **Monnbeam** and **The Oh So Bored One** for the reviews, alerts and favorites!

**Chapter 18: Fissures:**

Tom and Hermione lay next to each other on the floor of the Room of Requirement, each huddled over their own book. Hermione was scribbling away fiercely, her quill making a hurried scratching sound as she wrote. Ron cursed and made another scratch over a miss-placed word in his essay. Another three days had gone by and the miss-matched quartet busied themselves with their homework.

"I honestly don't know why we're bothering," Ron said grumpily as he fished out a clean roll of parchment, "We're just going to leave soon anyway."

Hermione's quill paused long enough for her to reach over and take Tom's hand in hers, "We don't know that, Ron."

"But we do," Ron continued, closing his book, "Shadow Thing said so."

"We realize your opinion on the matter, Wazlib," Tom replied smoothly, "And you can go ahead and ruin your grades but we don't want to take any chances."

"Of course _you_ should do your assignments, Riddle," Ron waved his remark away, "You'll be staying."

Hermione's hand involuntarily tightened on Tom's and he returned the pressure.

"If you don't want to do the assignment, then don't," Hermione replied simply, "But don't forget that you can still get detentions."

Ron grumbled something unintelligible and got up from his seat, wandering out of Hermione's line of vision. She focused on her assignment again when she heard quiet music begin to play from somewhere in the room. She glanced up and saw that Ron had turned on the radio and was fiddling with the stations. He finally settled on one and Hermione suppressed a groan. She recognized the crooning voice of Jareth, the flamboyant singer from the Halloween masquerade. She shook her head but focused on her essay again.

The music faltered for a brief moment, crackling with interference and Jareth's song bled into something that gave Hermione mental whiplash. She sat up and turned her head toward the radio, her mouth opened in wonderment. Harry was gazing at the radio too, his expression very much like Hermione's. Ron gave them horrified eyes and Tom cast a confused glance between the three of them.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"That song," Harry began, "But it can't be..."

Tom's brow furrowed as he listened to the song. It wasn't like anything he had ever heard, not that he ever listened to the WWN much anyway. Ron turned the dial on the radio only to have the same song on every station. He looked back at Harry and Hermione with a shrug.

"That can't be good," Harry said quietly, "Switch it off, Ron."

Ron turned it off hastily and the music died.

"What's going on?" Tom demanded.

"That song," Hermione began, "Was a song from our time. It's preformed by a famous band called the Weird Sisters...but why would that play..."

The light in the room flickered for a moment but then burned on like it always had. It happened so quickly that Hermione wasn't even sure if it really happened. Ron sat down on the couch next to Harry again.

"Something's not right," Harry announced.

"Do you think it has to do with us?" Hermione asked softly, "Do you think that time is...blending together somehow?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know."

* * *

_2 May, 1998 (3:42 a.m.)_

Severus Snape rushed through the grounds, dodging curses and surreptitiously casting his own at his fellow Death Eaters. One of the ex-Gryffindor students, Johnson, cast a curse that missed him by inches. Seeing no alternative, he sent a stunning spell at her and she crumpled to the ground. As he turned around to continue on his way, something made him freeze in his tracks.

His face went slack with shock and his wand fell from between his suddenly numb hands. Running up the drive came the one person Snape had never thought he'd see again, her long, deep red hair flying behind her as she came. A Death Eater was bearing down on her and Snape hastily snatched up his wand with a new-found urgency and he flung a curse so powerful that it sent the other man flying across the grounds. The woman stopped in front of him, her emerald green gaze as shocked and surprised as he felt. He took a staggering step forward, his hand outstretched toward her, expecting her to fade away at any moment.

"Lily?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

"Sev," she replied, "Sev...what...?"

Her question trailed off when Snape threw his arms around her. She froze in his embrace but slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, too. He felt the hot sting of tears burn behind his eyes and couldn't care less if they fell. He had held them in for far too long. He turned his face into her warm, alive hair and took in the familiar scent that had never faded from his memory.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Lily pulled herself from his grip, her eyes alight with a furious confusion, "Sev, what in the world is happening?"

"I don't know," Snape replied, his eyes roaming over her face hungrily, "I don't know but I don't care. You're alive."

"Of course I am," Lily laughed, "What is the matter with you?"

"Lils," came another familiar voice off to the left, "Lily, Voldemort is attacking the castle...I've just seen Remus...Snape."

Snape turned his head to see James Potter scowling over at him. James placed a possessive hand on Lily's shoulder and pulled her closer to himself.

"Potter," Snape replied, his tone surprisingly pleasant.

"Fighting, I see?" James snapped acidly, his wand aimed at Snape, "No doubt for Voldemort."

"Actually, no," Snape replied, looking at Lily rather than James, "I am Dumbledore's man now, and I have been for quite some time."

James narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reply when an explosion rocked the ground beneath them. Snape turned and saw that one of the giants had remodeled the front of the castle. Snape cast another glance at Lily before he sprinted toward the destruction at the castle, Lily at his side.

* * *

Tom and Hermione walked down the second floor corridor, hands clasped firmly together. Tom passed the bathroom without so much as a glance in its direction. He could still hear the call of the giant serpent but ignored it. Hermione squeezed his hand and he looked down at her. She stood still, her wide, shocked eyes staring straight ahead. Tom followed her gaze to see a young woman standing in the middle of the hall, her face frightened and stained with ash and blood. Hermione's hand slipped out of his as she staggered toward the girl, Tom following at her heels. Upon closer inspection, he was startled to note that the girl was slightly transparent.

"Lavender?" Hermione whispered.

The other girl looked at Hermione, terrified, "Hermione? Hermione, where have you been...everyone's been so worried..."

The girl named Lavender started toward Hermione as if she ment to hug her but stopped just in front of her.

"Are you..." Lavender began, "You're not...dead?"

Hermione shook her head, unable to form words past the freezing lump of frantic terror caught in her chest.

"Are you with Harry and Ron?" Lavender asked, "Are they okay?"

Hermione nodded again. Lavender reached for her and as soon as her diaphanous hand touched Hermione's, she vanished.

"Lavender," Hermione called into the empty hall, "Lavender?!"

"Hermione," Tom said firmly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She jerked at his touch, as if he'd stung her. She turned toward him, her eyes impossibly large in her colourless face. He felt his blood run cold at the look in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms and held her, an irrational flicker of panic beginning in his chest. He held her closer, determined to make sure that she wouldn't vanish the way the other girl had done.

"Oh, Merlin, Tom," she said in a frantic, high pitched voice, "Time is shattering...it's breaking...I know it...Lavender...the music...what have we done?"

Tom pushed her away from him at arms length, "Hermione, try to calm down or you'll hyperventilate."

And he was right. She had hardly noticed the quick gasps that were escaping her mouth, causing her chest to heave painfully. She tried to slow her breathing, willing her heart to slow to its normal speed. A sudden wave of nausea slammed into her, making her vision spin. Her knees buckled and if it wasn't for Tom's arms holding her, she would have fallen. As it was, her legs dipped and in one fluid motion, Tom scoped her into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder as a thin layer of cold sweat washed over her face. She shivered against the suddenly glacial air.

"Hermione," Tom breathed her name and darkness took her.

* * *

Tom paced in front of the blank stretch of wall on the seventh floor, willing the room to appear. He asked it for what he needed, somewhere to keep Hermione warm and safe and somewhere no one could bother them. The door appeared and he managed to open it with Hermione still nestled in his arms. He nudged the door open with his shoulder and walked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

He found his and Hermione's private room. He lay her gentle onto the huge bed and bent over her. Her breathing was back to normal, at least. He managed to get the covers of the bed over her and he perched himself on the other side of the bed, sitting next to her, waiting anxiously for any sign of her waking. He didn't have to wait long, her eyes squeezed tighter together and she turned her head to the side with a groan. She opened her eyes with a gasp and sat bold upright, her brown orbs darting around frantically. Tom was at her side in an instant.

"It's alright, Hermione," he said as she looked at him, startled, "You're safe. It's okay."

"We've got to tell Harry and Ron," Hermione announced.

"Tomorrow, first thing, but you should rest now," Tom said in way that suggested that there was to be no arguing.

He made to get up but she gripped his wrist, "Don't leave me!"

He smiled down at her and gently prised her hand from his wrist, "I wouldn't dream of it."

He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes before he pulled down the sheets on his side of the bed and slid between them. He reached for her and she folded herself into his waiting arms, laying her head against the strong plane of his chest. She could hear his heart beat, steady and reassuring against her ear. His arms folded over her protectively as he buried his face in her hair. For no reason at all, she felt tears flood her eyes and she began to cry in earnest. He let her cry, his hand massaging her back soothingly. All that mattered to him was that she was still there, still real against him.

She finally stopped crying a few minuets later. Her mind raced with the images of Lavender in the hallway and the music that had bled through on the radio. Time was breaking, she knew that without a doubt and even though that knowledge scared her, it was nothing compared to the fear she felt over losing Tom. In one shining moment of clarity, she realized that she would rather see the fabric of time unravel than leave his side. She felt a strange numbness in the pit of her stomach take over the panic. As long as she could be with Tom...that would be enough for her. She shifted her position and looked up at him. He smiled down at her, handsome and strangely innocent looking.

"What's the matter?" He asked her, his blue eyes gleaming in the soft light of the room.

"I was just thinking," she replied softly, "That I would rather see time lay in shreds at my feet than live without you."

"Hermione," he whispered, a strange spasm of pain shot across his features.

Before she could say anything about the look that had just passed over his face, his lips were on hers. His kiss was fierce and urgent, pressing against her lips so hard that they would bruise if she didn't open her mouth to him. The kiss made her gasp and she broke it first, needing to catch her breath.

"What was that?" she asked lightly.

She could taste copper in her mouth and slid her tongue appraisingly over her lips. She winced slightly when she found the tiny cut there.

"Did I hurt you?" Tom asked.

"No," she replied truthfully.

"Don't lie, Hermione," he shook his head, "I tasted it, too."

"It's fine," she replied with a sly smile, "I have no complaints."

To illustrate this point, she pressed her lips to his again. This time the kiss was gentle, sweet and pleasant. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled. She made a squeal of surprise as she blinked up at him from her new position underneath him. He stared down at her with a look that she couldn't read. It looked like a mix of desire and longing coupled with an unusual flash of pain and fear. Her hand snaked over his back and tangled in his hair as she rose her head to kiss him again. He rolled off of her and lay on his back, staring up at the canopy of the bed. She raised up onto her elbow to look at him.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I don't want you to go," he replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly, "I told you that already."

"Somehow, I don't think you'll have a choice," he answered.

"Tom, please, don't," she pleaded, "I don't want to think about it anymore. Lets just focus on being together, please."

He nodded and she lay next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her head seemed tailor-made to fit the contour of his shoulder. She stretched her arm across his stomach and pulled herself closer to him. His hands rested around her. They fit so perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle. He kissed the side of her head and made himself comfortable. His thumb began a soothing trek over her arm and it wasn't long until her breathing changed and he knew that she had fallen asleep. Hearing her soft, steady breath, he too, drifted into oblivion.


	19. The Hostility of Dreams

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **poison vial**, **MiaMiaMi**, **Monnbeam**, **aal613**, **MagZ86** and** irene0222**for the review, alerts and favorites!

**Chapter 19: The Hostility of Dreams:**

_"Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior." - Catullus LXV, Treasury of Roman Love: Poems, Quotations & Proverbs : In Latin and English_

* * *

Tom blinked in the darkness, his eyes struggling to adjust. When he was sure that he could see, he looked around himself, making sure that there was no one else in the corridor. When he was sure that he was alone, he pushed open the door. It protested with a small but annoyingly loud groan. He slipped inside, the door shutting soundlessly behind him.

The bathroom was freezing in the early hours just before dawn and dark blue shadows blurred the walls. He walked toward the sinks, feeling drawn there by some long forgotten instinct. He stopped in front of one in particular and bent down low to examine it. He passed his hand over the tap and felt an odd indentation in it. He peered closer to discover the serpent that was carved into the sink. His vision blurred and he could hear the voice calling him.

_Release me_, it hissed at him, _Release me._

"_I can't_," Tom spoke, his voice coming out as a succession of hissing and gasps.

_But you can, _the voice responded, _I have waited for you for a long time, Master._

"_I can't_," Tom's hissing voice sounded firm.

_You must. It is your destiny._

Tom shook his head and began to back away from the sink slowly. He turned around and found that he was no longer alone in the room. A pale, snake-like man with gleaming red eyes stood before him. He raised a slender, long-fingered hand and pointed at the sink. There was something horrifyingly familiar about the pale man. With a painful stab of cold horror, he recognized the man to be himself. This is what he would become in Hermione's violent future. Tom hadn't even known that he was backing away from his future self until his backside collided with the sink.

"It is your destiny," Lord Voldemort said in a high, clear voice that was nothing like his own, "Do it, now!"

"No," Tom said firmly, even though his heart was beating frantically in his chest.

Lord Voldemort's face contorted with rage as he glared at his younger self with contempt, "_Open up!_"

"No!" Tom called and had to jump to keep from falling into the gaping hole that had formed where the sink had once been.

Lord Voldemort was striding toward him now, his frame blurred around the edges like a ghost. Tom, having no where else to go, stood rooted to the spot. Voldemort kept coming, almost as if he meant to walk through him. Tom realized too late what he really intended to do. He felt Voldemort enter his body, felt it and could do nothing to stop it as Voldemort settled into his soul. He heard a mental click, as if some missing part of him had been found and replaced. Tom's body turned toward the sink, his hand rising even as he tried to stop it.

"_Come to me_," Tom's voice commanded, echoed by the cold voice of Voldemort.

He could hear a groan and the sound of something heavy being dragged up through the plumbing as a huge snake with glowing yellow eyes loomed up out of the floor. It coiled around him, its body nearly filling the entire space of the bathroom. It stared at Tom, waiting for instructions.

"_Kill the Mudbloods,_" Tom heard himself say in Voldemort's voice.

"Tom," He heard a familiar voice gasp from behind him.

His blood ran cold as ice and he felt as though his stomach had dropped out as he turned to see Hermione standing behind him. Her face was a mask of terror, hurt and disappointment.

"Tom, how could you?" she whispered.

A violent hiss echoed through the room as the basilisk lunged at Hermione. A short scream tore through the room and then she was lying still on the ground. He could hear clear, hysterical laughter echo in his mind and then he knew that Voldemort had left him, thrust out by his frantic panic. Tom fell to his knees by Hermione's side. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, wide and blank. He cradled her in his arms as a ragged scream tore from his throat. A dark shadow fell over him as he rocked Hermione's body back an forth. He looked up, expecting to see Voldemort standing over him but found a dark stranger instead.

The man was made of shadow itself and his eyes were as black as the space between the stars at night and just as empty.

"You," Tom snapped, rage filling him.

He lay Hermione's body on the floor gently before he sprang to his feet, lunging at the Shadow Man. He passed through him and landed on the other side, sprawled over the cold stone floor. The Shadow was suddenly facing him, looking down at him with a perfect blankness. It turned its head to the side and regarded Hermione's body before it turned back to Tom.

"She did not belong," It said in a strange and deep voice.

"I don't care!" Tom shouted at the thing, "You bring her back."

His rage moved him to his feet again and he swung at it again. His fist passed through the Shadow, leaving it unharmed.

"You cannot destroy us," The Shadow said, "We are ancient. We are law. All will be remade soon."

"You don't need to remake anything," Tom shouted, "We're fine the way we are. We don't need you!"

"Time has splintered," the Shadow replied, "We need to repair it or the world will collapse."

"I don't care," Tom said, remembering the words that Hermione had said to him.

_I would rather see time lay in shreds at my feet than live without you._

The Shadow turned its head to the side as if listening to voices that he couldn't hear. Dark lids closed over the darker eyes and when they opened, the beings sockets were filled with a glowing golden mist-like light.

"Nil sine nobis," It spoke, "Nothing exists without us. She does not belong."

"But I love her," Tom said, his voice sounding feeble and meek and strange to his own ears.

"If that were true you would stay away from her," the Shadow spoke, "Stay to your path. To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed. Leave her."

Tom cast another glance at Hermione's body. When he looked back, the Shadow was gone.

Tom woke with a gasp. He sat up in the bed and found himself covered in cold sweat. He glanced over at Hermione to see that she was still sound asleep, curled on her side, her back to him. He ran a hand through his sticky hair and let out a slow breath. He glanced at his watch only to have the hands tell him that it was five-fifty. He slipped out of the bed and retrieved his shirt, which he had lost at some point during the night. He pulled it on and walked out of the room, closing the door noiselessly behind him, the last words of his nightmare echoing in his mind. _To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed. Leave her_.

As he made his way toward the dungeons, the image of Lord Voldemort loomed in his memory. He remembered how good it had felt to hear the basilisk call him Master. He remembered the rush of power and the pleasure of being able to control such a powerful and deadly creature. No, he didn't remember, Tom corrected himself, Voldemort remembered. Or was it his memory? Had he actually met his future self in the dream. It could have been possible, seeing as how time itself was starting to crack.

He felt sick when the image of Hermione lying dead on the bathroom floor swam to the front of his thoughts. _Stay away from her_, said the deep voice. His jaw clenched tight at the words. He would stay away from her, if it meant that her life be spared. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she died, especially if it was by his own hand. He spoke the password to the common room and as he passed through the door, he allowed the empty numbness that he had always felt before Hermione came fill him up. His face became a hard, blank mask once more.

* * *

Hermione woke to find that she had turned in her sleep. She rolled over, expecting to see Tom still asleep beside her. Instead, she found his side of the bed empty and cold. She sat up, looking for him somewhere else in the room. He was gone. She frowned and got up, checking her watch as she did. It read seven-thirty. Maybe had gone down to breakfast. She frowned deeper. He had always waited for her before, even if he decided to let her sleep in, he had always been somewhere else in the room. She got up and left the room, remembering that she had to tell Ron and Harry about seeing the ghost of Lavender in the corridor.

When she entered the common room, she found Minerva seated on the couch. She looked over at Hermione with a tight lipped frown, reminiscent of her future self. Hermione gave her a quick, embarrassed smile before she walked up the stairs to change. She made to change into her uniform before she remembered that it was Saturday and switched to regular clothing instead. Once she was dressed, she peeked down into the common room to see if Ron had woken up. When she didn't see his bright hair, she walked into the boys dormitory and found him sprawled across his bed, his mouth hanging open and snoring slightly.

"Ron," Hermione hissed at him, "Ron, wake up!"

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, pulling the sheet up over himself, "Blimey, Hermione, what are you doing?"

She looked around the room and found it empty. She sat on the edge of his bed, "We need to find Harry."

* * *

Harry wandered into the Slytherin common room to see Tom sitting in his usual chair by the fire, the gang of Slytherin's that he had been towing around with him when the trio had first arrived were huddled around him. Tom caught Harry's eye over Nott's large head and his eyes narrowed. Harry gazed back at him, his expression weary. He and Tom had never been best friends, but as of quite recently, they had exchanged the pleasant nod of acknowledgement. Tom looked away from Harry and whispered something to the other boys and some of them turned to look in his direction while others chuckled darkly. Having enough, Harry turned and made his way to the Great Hall.

* * *

Hermione was practically dragging the still half asleep Ron down the stairs when she saw the familiar mess of hair that belonged to Harry bob in front of them.

"Harry!" she called, making him turn toward them.

She ran to him and grabbed him by the hand. She pulled both Harry and Ron into the antechamber that housed the first years when they were waiting to be Sorted and put a muffling charm on the door.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked at once.

"Last night," she breathed, "When Tom and I were on patrol, I saw...I saw Lavender!"

"What?" Ron yelped suddenly, mid yawn.

"_Lavender_," Hermione repeated, "She was in the corridor, only, she looked like a ghost...she was transparent, and she looked battle worn."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, mildly annoyed, "Tom saw her too."

"So you were right, time must be bleeding together," Harry said gravely.

"Did you see Tom?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"I saw him alright," Harry nodded, his voice went dark.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked.

"He was with his old gang," Harry replied, "He glared at me this morning, not that we were good friends before, but he's always been civil to me at least. But this morning he looked at me like he wanted to kill me."

"That can't be true," Hermione shook her head, "He wouldn't..."

"But he did," Harry replied firmly, "Is that all you wanted to tell us?"

She nodded.

"Alright, then," Harry said, "I'm going to breakfast now."

Ron cast a quick glance at Hermione before he followed Harry out of the room. Hermione stared after them, trying to comprehend what Harry had told her about Tom. She followed after them a moment later. When she entered the Hall, she saw Harry veer toward the Slytherin table. Her eyes caught Tom, sitting in the middle of the boys who made up the Knights of Walpurgis. He raised his gaze and locked on hers. She felt her heart freeze in her chest.

His eyes were utterly blank when they caught hers. Then, hatred and loathing passed in them so raw that she staggered backward, bumping into a Hufflepuff who gave her a nasty look. Tom's perfect mouth, the mouth that had kissed her so tenderly the night before turned into a sneer. He looked away from her and said something that caused the Knights to break into cruel laughter. Some of them pointing to her.

"Run along, Mudblood," Nott called, "He's done playing with you, now."

Nott's words fell on her deaf ears but the smirk of approval on Tom's face stung her. Why was he doing this? She turned away from the Slytherin table even as she heard Harry suggest that Nott do something physically impossible with the end of a broomstick. She sat down at the Gryffindor table, a numb buzzing in her ears and a hollow hole in her chest where her heart should have been, as she stared at her plate. She was aware of Ron's furious gaze and saw his lips move but couldn't hear anything past the ringing. She piled food onto her plate but then proceeded to leave it untouched.

She huddled over herself as the hole in her chest spread outward, taking her lungs away too. She warpped her arms across her chest and stomach, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. She swallowed in great gulps of air and closed her eyes against the emptiness. She wouldn't let him see her like this. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his behavior was hurting her. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a tiny voice was saying that he was bluffing. She shook her head, a stronger voice arguing that there was nothing fake about the look in his eyes.

_He's fooled the world for years, _the tiny voice was saying, _And now he's trying to fool you._

_But why would he do that? _said the stronger voice, _Why would he pretend to hate me?_

_It's up to you to find that out, isn't it? _Said the other voice, growing louder and stronger.

Hermione jumped when she felt a gentle hand on hers. She opened her eyes and saw Minerva looking at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," Hermione lied, and badly.

She knew that Minerva didn't believe her but was grateful when the other girl didn't pursue the issue any further. Ron kept mutter dark comment under his breath as he took furious bites out of his food. She turned her head, looking in Harry's direction, only to find that Professor Cooper, the Herbology teacher was chastising Harry and Nott for their inappropriate comments. The shadow of Tom hurried out of the door, leaving the Knights to laugh and slap Nott on the back when he sat down with them again.

Hermione stood up, certain that Tom had left the Hall alone and made for the door. The Knights caught sight of her and cat-called at her, taking care not to say anything too vulgar, lest the professors hear them again. She ignored them and hurried into the Entrance Hall. She stood there for a moment and thought about where Tom would go. Her immediate thought was the Slytherin common room, where she couldn't get to him. But if he had only wanted to avoid her, why would he leave without his gang? The library? No, he wouldn't go there. Then it hit her like a ton of obvious bricks. The Room of Requirement.

She didn't make it to the Room. She managed to catch up to him on the fifth floor, the corridors deserted as most of the school was still having breakfast.

"Tom," she called.

He ignored her, striding away from her.

"Tom, wait," she said again, jogging up to him.

He stopped and turned toward her, his face as arrogant and blank as the first day they met. She recoiled for that look but reached out for him anyway. He took one step back, just missing her hand. She pulled it back and stared at him. He scowled.

"Tom, why are you doing this?' she whispered.

"Don't address me so informally, Granger," he said her surname as if it were something foul in his mouth, "What do you want?"

She gaped up at him, speechless. He quirked an eyebrow at her and turned to walk away.

"Wait," she said, her voice hoarse.

"What do you want, Mudblood?" he snapped venomously.

"Don't," she sobbed, tears trailing down her flushed cheeks.

"Don't what?" Tom sneered at her, "Don't call you Mudblood?'

She nodded feebly.

"Why?" Tom hissed, "That's what you are. Filth."

"You can't mean that," she replied.

"But I do," Tom said, taking a menacing step toward her.

She caught her breath, but this time it was out of fear. He loomed in front of her, vibrating with rage as he had done after he had saved her from Nott. She cowered back, her eyes wide at his twisted but still beautiful face.

"Did you honestly think I cared for you," he said with the edge of humor.

"I know you did," she replied, her voice very, very small, "I know you _do_."

"You were wrong," He smirked, "You were just a distraction."

She flinched, as she felt a searing pain begin in her chest, like someone was carving out a piece of her heart with a razor sharp and red-hot blade. Ron's angry words from four days ago echoed in her mind. _Do you honestly think that you can change him? Make him better? He's _evil_, Hermione and you're just a distraction. What do you think will happen when he loses interest in you? When the novelty wears off?_

"You're lying," she said, her voice sounding ridiculously unsure.

"I've fooled the world for ages, Granger," he laughed, "And apparently I've fooled you, too. Stupid girl, thinking that I could ever love _you_."

"You don't mean that!" She yelled, her voice echoing around the empty corridor, "You can't mean that. You're lying and I know it!"

Tom sneered at her again and shook his head as if she were a stubborn child who refused to see that she was wrong. He turned and walked away, turning his head back toward her he said, "To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed and I'm indestructible."

With that, he rounded a corner and was gone. The searing pain in her chest was swallowed by the emptiness again. She couldn't feel her heart beat nor feel her lungs breathe anymore. She staggered backward and landed against the wall, her breath coming in quick gasps. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her body shaking with sobs so raw they made no sound at all. She buried her face in her knees, her hands yanking at her hair but she did not feel the pain. It was nothing compared to the void in her chest. She ended up in a ball on the floor in the corridor and it was there that Harry, Ron and Minerva found her.

* * *

**AN: **The latin poem that opens this chapter translates into: "I hate and I love. How can I do that, you might ask me perhaps? I do not know. But that's what I feel and this is torture." I thought it fit pretty well.

Shadow translated the other latin phrase itself: "Nil sine nobis" "Nothing can exist without us."

The quote that I love so much, "To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed" is from City of Bones by Cassandra Claire.

And some of you might recognize a Bella-esque breakdown from New Moon by Stephenie Meyer.

I think that takes care of all of the legal acknowledgements. All things mentioned above belong to their respective owners, I'm just using them. Kay, thanks. Stay tuned for the next!


	20. Time Is Running Out

**AN: **Thank you to **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86**, **The Oh So Bored One**, **Ciroth**, **BDSanta2001**, **Monnbeam**, **LunaMazes**, **jojobevco** and **Gummysweets** for the favorites, alerts and reviews. I seriously love you guys!

**Chapter 20: Time Is Running Out:**

As Tom rounded the corner, his shoulders were tense, expecting Hermione to come after him. When she didn't, he allowed his shoulders to slump in defeat. He felt sick to his stomach and a gnawing, raw ache in his chest made it hard to breathe. The look on her face...Self-loathing welled up inside of him and all he wanted to do was hide somewhere and let the misery have him. He had told her that he would never hurt her, but after seeing her face he knew that he had hurt her more deeply than anything else could have.

After putting a good distance between them, he allowed himself to lean against the corridor walls. He thought of her, lifeless in his dream and felt another stabbing pang in his chest. No, what he was doing was for the best. If hurting her emotionally spared her physically, he'd be the biggest wanker in the world. At least then he would know that she'd still be alive, no matter how emotionally distressed. At least she would still draw breath.

He forced himself away from the wall, needing to find a safe place to hide. The Room of Requirement was out. No doubt Wazlib and Evans would be out for his blood, and if they chose to fight him, he had half a mind to let them curse him into oblivion. His feet carried him to the dungeons and even further down past the regularly used corridors. He passed the common room without even a second glance, knowing the Evans would go there to look for him. He found a long deserted classroom and ducked inside, seating himself on the dusty stone in a cobweb encrusted corner and closed his eyes, allowing the stabbing pain in his chest to grow and take him over.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Minerva were frantically searching for Hermione, Minerva having noticed her slip out of the Hall after Riddle. They searched on every floor, checking every nook and cranny until they finally found her, crumpled on the floor of a fifth floor corridor, curled into the fetal position. For one frozen moment, it looked like she was stunned and rage filled them, assuming that Riddle had cursed her. Then, Minerva noticed the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders, could just make out the strangled sounds of grief coming from the other girl.

Minerva dropped down to her knees beside Hermione, reaching out and touching her shoulder gently. Hermione didn't even react to the other girl's touch.

"Hermione?" Minerva said softly, "Hermione, love, can you hear me?"

Hermione didn't move or speak. Minerva shook her but Hermione still didn't respond. Minerva looked at Harry and Ron and shook her head in defeat. Harry crouched down next to her and tired to find Hermione's face where it was hidden by her hands and knees.

"Hermione, come on," Harry urged gently, "Lets get you up, now."

When she was unresponsive again, Harry nodded at Ron and the other boy helped him drag Hermione to her feet. Minerva's hands went to her mouth. Hermione looked utterly empty, her face colourless and slack and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. She was staring straight ahead, looking past Minerva as if she weren't even there. Ron scooped Hermione into his arms and headed for the Gryffindor common room, but Harry placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I don't think the dormitory is the best place for her right now," Harry said.

Ron looked down at Hermione's blank and empty face and sighed, "I suppose you're right."

"Where are you going to take her, then?" Minerva asked, "We can't take her to the Hospital Wing. How will explain her condition to Madam Iona?"

"Something along the lines of a gormless git carving her heart out with a knife," Ron hissed.

"Lets take her to the Room of Requirement," Harry said.

"The what?" Minerva asked, looking between the two boys with questioning eyes.

"You'll see," was Harry's reply.

* * *

The room transformed itself into an exact copy of the Hospital Wing, with a slightly bigger and more comfortable bed and a roaring fire. Harry drew back the sheets as Ron deposited Hermione onto the bed. Minerva was watching from a small couch on the other side of the room. As soon as Harry drew the covers over her, Hermione rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, her shoulders heaving again with renewed sobs. Harry shook his head and nudged Ron away from the bed to join Minerva on the couch.

"So, do you mind explaining this?" Minerva gestured around the room.

"It comes when you need it," Harry explained, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, "It equips itself for your needs. All you have to do is pace in front of the blank stretch of wall three times while thinking about what you need."

"I see," Minerva replied, "And how did you discover it?"

"I needed a loo really bad," Harry lied, borrowing Dumbledore's tale.

Minerva sighed and looked at Hermione, hidden in the bed, "Poor girl. What a horrible way to be cast off."

Ron snarled, "I knew it. I knew he'd break her heart...I told her he would!"

"I don't think this is the best time for 'I told you so's', Ron," Harry said.

"I wasn't..." Ron gaped.

"I wonder why he did it," Minerva mused.

"I'll tell you why he did it," Ron said, "He did it because he's a..."

"Ron, shut up," Harry shook his head.

Ron glared at him, shut his mouth and glared at the fire instead.

"I mean, he looked so happy," Minerva continued, "I've never seen him look that way, not in the entire five years I've known him."

"He's a good actor," Harry said darkly.

Minerva shook her head, "I don't think that's it. You two might not have seen it, but...I don't know, he looked so _protective_ of her, as if he were waiting for something bad to happen to her at any moment...as if...as if he would throw himself in front of a curse for her."

Ron snorted but Harry listened to her revelations and thought. Riddle was a good actor. A very good actor. As he thought about it, he knew that Minerva was right. So was Riddle really trying to distance himself from Hermione? Why would he do that? What was the cause for it? Harry tired to talk himself into thinking the worst of Riddle, like he'd always done, but something about this didn't feel right to him. Something told him that Tom actually loved Hermione and that by hurting her feelings, he was trying to save her from something. But what?

Harry set his emerald gaze on Hermione again and stood up, "Lets give her some time."

Ron looked as if her were about to protest but seemed to think better of it and stood up too, Minerva mirroring him. The three of them trooped out of the room, letting the door shut softly behind them.

* * *

Harry walked down the cold corridors of the dungeons, his shoulders slumped and a frown on his face. His brain was buzzing with all of the things that could have prompted Tom to leave Hermione, each idea bubbling up to the front of his mind and then slipping away before he could get a firm grasp on it. Something made a noise off to his left and he stopped in his tracks. He took two steps backwards and peered down the deserted corridor that led deeper into the unused part of the dungeons. He squinted into the darkness, trying to see what had made the sound.

A flash of movement in the shadows made his heart speed up. He walked down the corridor, chasing the soft sound of footsteps. As he moved further into the corridor, it grew darker. He lit his wand and turned a corner. He yelped in surprise at the sight that greeted him. It looked like half the castle had been blown in. The ceiling had collapsed and the corridor beyond was nothing more than a gaping hole, leaving the Black Lake in plain view, the small bit of wall that remained was only inches above the inky water line. It wasn't just the sight of the destruction that had startled Harry so much as the person who stood gazing at him in front of it.

Ginny watched him with wide brown eyes, her face covered in dirty, soot and blood. Her flame bright hair was matted in places with blood and sweat. Her mouth was a perfect _o_ of shock. She took a tiny step toward him and he could see that her clothes were torn and stained. Harry felt his feet moving across the floor almost on their own. As he drew closer, he could tell that the edges of her body were blurred and slightly transparent.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, disbelieving.

"It's me, Gin," Harry answered.

"Where have you been?" Ginny continued forward, "We were starting to think...but you look like a ghost!"

Ginny stopped, inches from him. Harry wanted to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and hold her close but he stood very still, making sure that he didn't touch her, lest she disappear.

"Ginny, you're alright," his voice was plainly relived.

"Of course," she nodded, "But where are you? Where's Ron and Hermione? I haven't seen you since you sent me away from the Room of Requirement."

"Ginny, listen to me," Harry said hurriedly, "I don't know what's going on here, but if you and I can see each other right now, it isn't good.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny gaped at him, "Harry what..."

"We went back in time," Harry rushed on, "Ron, Hermione and I are in 1941..."

"What?" Ginny squinted at him, as if she didn't hear him correctly, "Harry..."

Harry's eyes widened. Ginny's mouth was still moving but he couldn't hear her voice. Her frame began to fade and Harry cried out, his hand flying toward her arm, trying to keep her with him. His hand passed through her arm and she was gone. He blinked and when his eyes opened again, the corridor was perfect and whole once more. Harry spun around wildly, his heart beating painfully in his chest. First the Weird Sisters song on the radio, then Lavender and now Ginny. Harry shook his head and spun on his heels, running for the Slytherin common room, the only thought in his mind was the relief of knowing that Ginny was still alive.

* * *

Tom didn't remember falling asleep. When he picked himself up, his whole body ached from laying on the cold, hard stone of the room. The chamber was completely black. Night must have fallen. He could hear the soft drip coming from one of the walls and the air was chilled. He stood up, brushing the dust of the floor off of his clothes and stretched, trying to alive the ache in his limbs. He winced as his arms reached skyward. It seemed as if there was something sharp lodged in his chest, right where his heart should be. Stranged that his emotional pain could become physical.

He lit his wand and headed for the door. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was only seven fifteen at night. He had lost an entire day. He followed the corridor down, deciding to skip dinner. He didn't feel hungry. He didn't feel anything at all except for a strange numbness in his torso. He was nearly to the main corridor when he heard the unmistakable sound of running feet coming from the corridor off to his right. He turned just in time to see Evans making a made dash at him.

He barley had time to tense before both boys toppled to the stone floor, Tom's head hitting the stone hard sending a sharp pain through the back of his head and neck. Harry hardly gave Tom time to react, his Seeker trained reflexes had Tom disarmed in a mere second. Harry tossed Tom's wand behind him and it rolled away down the hall, coming to rest a few feet behind them. Harry seized the front of Tom's robes and pulled him up. Tom's face was a mask of rage.

"Get off me, Evans," Tom hissed.

"What did you do to her?" Harry yelled in Tom's face, giving him a firm shake.

"Who?" Tom asked, his face blank.

"You know who," Harry snarled.

"Oh, you mean the Mudblood?" Tom asked casually, "I didn't do a damn thing to her."

Harry punched Tom in the face, causing his nose to erupt with blood. Tom looked stunned, hardly expecting the other boy to use physical combat against him. Tom spat blood away from his mouth, effectively spattering it across Harry's face. Harry raised his fist again but Tom managed to move his head at the last possible second, causing Harry's hand to collide quite painfully with the stone below. Harry yelled and pulled his fist back. Tom used his moment of pain to shove the other boy off of him, scrambling to his feet.

Harry hopped up quickly and glared at the taller boy with murder in his eyes, "Stop pretending, Riddle."

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked, wiping blood from his nose with the sleeve of his robe.

"I know you love her," Harry replied, cradling his broken fist, "You don't need to push her away."

"I don't love her," Tom sneered, pleased with the malice in his voice, "I never did. She was merely something pretty to parade around for a while. I grew tired of her."

"That's a bunch of bollocks and you know it," Harry snapped, "You may have been able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me."

Tom looked at Harry for a long moment while his mind tried to work up a way to get out of this. Harry's eyes were so sure of his beliefs and against that kind of conviction, Tom could see no way of lying. He took a deep breath and turned away from Harry's X-ray green eyes. He walked down the hall a bit and retrieved his wand and wasn't a bit surprised to turn around to find that Harry had his own trained on him.

"I'm not going to curse you, Evans," Tom replied, stowing his wand away to illustrate his point.

Harry lowered his own wand but kept it naked in his hand, his eyes narrowed like a cats, "Why did you do it, Tom?"

Tom's gaze snapped up to Harry's. He had used his given name...just like..., "I had to."

"No, you don't," Harry replied automatically, "You can stay with her for as long as you can."

Tom shook his head, "It's for her own good...I'll...I'll kill her..."

"It's doing more harm than good, you know," Harry said softly, "She's retreated into herself."

Tom sucked in a sharp breath, "I didn't want..."

"Regardless," Harry stalled him, "What did you think was going to happen? Did you think you could just be a world class git to her and she would just move on without trying to find out why or confront you about it?"

"I was hoping," Tom smirked a little, "But I knew that she would come after me...so I had to try harder."

"Well, congratulations, she believed you," Harry said sarcastically, "Bet you're pretty thrilled."

"But I'm not," Tom shook his head, unable to stop the flow of words now, "I've felt...empty all day, like there's nothing inside of me anymore...I've been...lost."

"How do you think she feels?" Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping, "She was like a hollow shell when we found her."

"Found her?" Tom asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, surprised that he didn't already know the state of which he had left Hermione in, "She was curled into a ball on the fifth floor, crying. It wasn't pretty. I'm just glad we found her before breakfast let out."

Tom felt a wave of nausea hit him and stumbled back against the wall. He'd really hurt her that badly that she had just crumpled to the floor, right where he'd left her? He remembered her face as he left her and felt sick again, his vision spinning. He was a monster. He passed a hand over his face and winced as he made contact with his broken nose. He took out his wand and fixed it, wiping away the bloody residue.

"She loves you," Harry pressed, "I thought she loved Ron, but now, when I saw you two together...She _loves_ you, Tom, don't take that away from her."

Tom let Harry's words sink in and tried to fight them. He shook his head over and over again, "I can't stay with her. I can't."

"Why not?" Harry demanded.

"Because if I do, I'll kill her," Tom replied, "I saw it...and if I don't kill her...some other horrible thing will happen. We can't be together..."

The words rang clear and true and it hurt Tom to know it. They couldn't be together. But still, he wanted her...needed her more than anything else.

"You can for now," Harry sighed, "The whole world is going to hell, you might as well enjoy it."

"What are you on about?" Tom asked, startled out of his self-pity by Harry's last sentence.

"You know that girl that Hermione saw, the one who disappeared?" Harry asked and Tom nodded, "I saw another one. My girlfriend, Ginny. It's getting worse."

Tom's heartbeat sped up, "What are you going to do?"

Harry shrugged and a frightening smile curved his lips, "I don't know."

Tom took in the helpless look on Harry's face, the utter defeat in his eyes and made up his mind, "Take me to her."

"I don't need to take you there, Tom," Harry shook his head, "You know where she is."

Tom nodded and walked past Harry toward the main corridor, turning back he said, "Thank you, Harry."

* * *

**AN: **OMG I am so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! Life has been busy lately. Anyway, here it is! I'm sorry to say this but this little fic is winding down. That's right, we're almost to the end. I think there might be four to six more chapter in this thing so enjoy it while you can! Thank you all again for your continuing support and reviews. I never expected this fic to do so well! Love you guys! Stay tuned!


	21. Legends

**AN: **Thank you to **MagZ86**, **BDSanta2001**, **stsgirlie**, **The Oh So Bored One**, **Curse Weaver** and **Monnbeam** for the reviews, alerts and favorites!

**Chapter 21: Legends:**

Tom opened the door quietly. The room was dark, the fire in the mantle having gone out ages ago. He shut the door behind him and candles flickered to life in the room, casting a dim glow about the place, just bright enough for him to see. The room looked like the Hospital Wing and there, nestled in the bed, lay Hermione. Tom inched closer to her, his feet making no sound at all on the floor beneath him.

She looked like an angel, her pale face was relaxed with sleep and her brown hair was fanned out under her head across the pillow. Tom's brow furrowed when he caught the glittering trail that led from her eyes down her cheeks. She had been crying not moments ago, perhaps in her sleep. He sat down in the chair next to her bed, not wanting to disturb her rest.

He had gone back to the common room before he could muster up the courage to come here, not knowing what to expect. As he gazed at Hermione from his place by her bed, he found that he was relived that he had found her asleep. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd caught her awake. It would be better if she woke up to see him by her side, he mused. It seemed like the easiest way to make amends.

He pulled the book he had brought with him from his bag and opened it to a random page. It was one of the books from the Restricted Section, the one entitled _Preposterous Myths and Legends of the Magical World_. His eyes scanned the page and he felt his face grow hot with the realization that he had opened to a chapter on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. He flipped the page quickly and landed on a myth about some beings called The Cronus. Tom stared at the word, feeling his blood turn to ice in his veins. Cronus...a from of the Latin word "chronus" which meant "time".

_Cronus, The:_

_Classification: An ancient myth pertaining to the oldest of Taboos; the meddling of Time._

_The legend of the Cronus date back as far as Wizarding history can remember. They are said to be the guardians of Time itself, the absoloute law of the order of Time and Space. Should Time come under attack, such as the altering of major events, it was the Cronus who appeared to mend it. They were said to be merciful, offering a warning before acting. Should the warning go unheeded, the Cronus would remove the offender by force. The harshest of punishments awaited those who refused to leave. It was said that the offenders were dragged off to endure a fate worse than death, a fate far worse than even the Dementor's Kiss. An existence in a cold and empty state, caught between the folds of time, never dieing, just existing in solitude. All evidence shows that this myth is simply that, a myth._

Tom's fingers went numb and the large book slipped from his cold hands, hitting the floor with a loud _thump_. Hermione stirred at the sound and Tom's gaze snapped to her face. She blinked awake, staring at the ceiling at first, when she noticed someone sitting in her peripheral vision. She turned her head on the pillow and found deep blue eyes staring back at her. She sucked in a sharp breath and her chest seared with pain.

"Hermione," he whispered her name, his voice soft and full of an emotion she couldn't understand at that moment.

His handsome face was drawn and peaky, his eyes large and frightened. She wrenched her face away from his, expelling the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It whooshed out quickly and her head spun from the momentary lapse of oxygen. It was easier, not looking at him. Her throat burned with the tears she refused to shed in his presence. Fixing her eyes on the wall, she gathered her thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice coming out stronger than she thought it would.

"I came to apologize," Tom answered, "I didn't mean what I said. I was trying to protect you."

Hermione snorted loudly, "Protect me from what, exactly?"

"From me," Tom whispered.

Hermione closed her eyes at his tone but refused to look at him, "What for? I'm just a Mudblood, remember?"

Tom groaned, letting the agony he felt show through, "I didn't mean it...I could never...I just..."

"What," Hermione snapped suddenly, her anger turning her towards him.

She wished she hadn't. His face was twisted in pain and for once he wouldn't meet her gaze. He looked at the floor, twisting his hands together. She suddenly wanted to reach for him, to take him in her arms and tell him everything would be alright. Instead, she sat up in the bed and looked at his dark, bowed head, waiting. Tom took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I had a dream last night..." he began, "I dreamed of the one you told me about, the one I will become. Voldemort. He called the basilisk from the Chamber, no, I called it...well, _we _called it, Voldemort and I together, as one person. He was inside me, Hermione, I couldn't help it."

He looked at her then, begging her with his eyes to understand that he had not meant to do it. She blinked at him, her eyebrows furrowed and he looked away.

"The basilisk came to our call and we commanded it to kill all of the Muggle-borns," Tom continued, his voice quiet with shame and revulsion, "I heard a noise behind me and saw that you were there...the basilisk killed you...Voldemort left me after that...and I saw the Shadow that you spoke of. It told me that you didn't belong here and that They needed to repair Time or the world would collapse...It told me to stick to my path...so I tried to get you to hate me, so that maybe you'd be safe..."

Hermione felt a tear trail down her cheek. So he did love her, after all. He was trying to hurt her to save her. He looked up at her again, his eyes shining in the light with...unshed tears?

"I don't want to stay to my path," Tom said, "And I don't care if the world collapses. I just want to be with you. I love you, Hermione."

She was out of the bed faster than she thought herself capable of. She landed in his lap, crushing her lips against his. He responded just as passionately, his arms encircling her, holding her against him, his lips kissing her cheeks, her forehead, everywhere they could reach. She touched his cheek and turned his face towards hers, their eyes locked.

"Don't do that again," Hermione said, her cheeks flushed, "Don't you ever leave me again."

"I won't," Tom replied, kissing her again, "I won't."

Hermione sat back in his arms, her head on his shoulder when she found the book on the floor, its title hidden by the shadow of the bed. She looked at it with curious eyes. Was that what had woken her?

"What were you reading?" She asked.

Tom followed her gaze and picked the book off the floor, tucking it back into his bag before she could see the title.

"Nothing, just homework," Tom lied, unable to tell her about the threat of the Cronus, lest he cause her more pain. It was better if he was the only one who knew. Who suffered.

"Evans broke my nose, you know," Tom said lightly, changing the subject.

"He didn't!" Hermione gasped, her hands touching his face gently, appraisingly.

"He did," Tom smiled, "And quite well, I must admit. I healed it, though."

"I'd thought it'd be Ron," Hermione smiled despite herself.

"I wouldn't count him out just yet," Tom replied, "Evans saw me first but I just bet that Wazlib would love to have a go."

"Well he's missed it," Hermione said sternly, "You've made amends."

"I have," Tom smiled again and kissed her gently, "And I've learned from my mistake."

"Good," Hermione nodded, "I guess we should go then."

"Lets not," Tom replied a little too hurriedly, "I just want to have as much time with you as possible."

Hermione pulled back from him, her face suspicious. Tom made his face a mask of innocence and she smiled at him, satisfied by the seemingly innocuous statement.

"Alright," Hermione smiled warmly, "I don't think I can argue that point...but I think it would be in both our best interest if I at least tell the others we've made up. We wouldn't want any unwelcome visitors later on, would we?"

"Good point," Tom chuckled, "You don't mind doing that alone, do you? I don't think my nose would like being broken twice in one day."

Hermione laughed, a deep, thoroughly joyous sound, "Alright. I think that's fair."

"I'll see you back here in an hours time," Tom said, helping Hermione up.

"An hour?" Hermione asked, "It isn't going to take that long."

"Half an hour, then," Tom replied, "I'm going to drop off my bag in the Slytherin common room and grab a change of clothes."

"It's a date," Hermione said, kissing him once more before leaving the room.

Tom made sure she had time to leave his path clear before he walked out of the room. He stopped at the library and checked in the book he had been reading. The librarian looked at him with sharp eyes and snatched it from him, hurrying away from her station to deposit the book in its rightful place. Tom made good on his original plan and wandered into the common room without speaking to anyone, even though Nott and Avery tried to engage him in conversation. He slammed the dormitory door in their faces and found only Harry in the room.

The other boy was sprawled across his four poster, looking at him over what appeared to be a blank stretch of parchment. His green eyes burning.

"I fixed it," was all that Tom said.

Harry nodded and returned to frowning at the blank parchment stretched out like a map in front of him. Tom grabbed a change of clothes and nodded goodnight at Harry before he slipped from the room, dodging Lestrange and Mulciber who seemed to be waiting for him. Their faces fell when he didn't even look their way. He made it back to Hermione and joined her on _their_ bed, in _their_ room. He plopped down next to her and nestled his face in the hollow of her neck. Her skin smelled sweet and clean. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her cheek against the top of his head, her hand idly running through his hair.

He closed his eyes, content like a cat with cream. He could feel her heartbeat against his face where it was pressed into her neck. Words flashed behind his eyes, words and the images to go with them. The dark Shadow finally had a name. _Cronus. _He pressed his eyelids tighter together, willing the images to go away. They didn't. He opened his eyes and sat up. Hermione let him go reluctantly, her expression worried.

"Is there anything wrong, Tom?" she asked.

He didn't reply. He only looked at her, laying there, so beautiful and unaware. He leaned over her and let his fingers trace her face. She closed her eyes and let him map out every feature, every minuscule line. He ran his index finger over the bridge of her nose where a light dusting of freckles painted it. He frowned and pulled his hand away. She opened her eyes and sat up next to him, looping her arm through his and hugging it to her chest. He looked at her.

"Hermione," he said, "I have an odd question for you."

"Alright," she replied.

"Well, its more of a hypothetical inquiry, really," Tom continued, feeling an odd flush paint his cheeks and the tingling in his stomach that he had finally come to realize was nerves.

"Just ask, then," Hermione smiled, "What is it...are you blushing?"

Her tone was so surprised that he felt more heat flood his face. Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing as two crimson spots darkened on his pale cheeks.

"What would you do if..." Tom stalled, "Well, I know we're both really young...well, I am...but..."

Hermione was gobsmacked at Tom's loss of articulation and inability to form a coherent sentence. That was more Ron's style or even Harry's. Whatever he was about to say must really be embarrassing to him.

"I was just thinking that maybe..." Tom closed his eyes and shook his head, as if clearing a fog, "I want...Would you marry me?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open and her vision blurred with a rush of emotion. She gaped, unable to form words. Tom missunderstood her silence, as boys do.

"I know I don't have a ring or anything," he rushed on, "And logically, we really couldn't find anyone to preform the ceremony...I don't even know what I was thinking, really. Of course we couldn't get married now..."

"Yes," she finally managed, "Yes."

Tom stopped talking and looked at her, "Really?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, making herself slightly dizzy, "Yes. I would like nothing more."

"But I don't have a ring," Tom went on.

"I don't care," she shook her head, "And I don't care if we can't do it officially. Mentally, emotionally, physically...I will marry you."

Tom smiled, his whole face lighting up, making him look so much younger, "Good. Shall we then?"

Hermione nodded, "You first, I guess."

Tom cleared his throat, taking her left hand in his and thinking how best to begin, "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, take you, Hermione Granger..."

"Jean," Hermione interupter, gently.

"What?" Tom blinked at her.

"My middle name is Jean," she smiled.

"Oh, right," Tom chuckled, "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, take you, Hermione Jean Granger to be my...mentally and emotionally bound wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health until...existence do us part."

"Nicely worded," Hermione smiled a bit sadly, "And I, Hermione Jean Granger, take you, Tom Marvolo Riddle to be my mentally and emotionally bound husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health until existence do us part."

"Do I get to kiss the bride?" Tom smiled.

"I do hope so," Hermione laughed.

Tom pulled her gently to him and kissed her sweetly, "I now pronounce us bound for...existence."

"And now, I think, the honeymoon," Hermione kissed him again.

"Why Mrs. Riddle, how shameful of you," Tom replied huskily.

A look passed over Hermione's face, "Mrs. Hermione Riddle, I like the sound of that."

"As do I," Tom replied, kissing the hollow of her throat gently, "I'll get you a ring, I swear I will."

"Tom, I really don't need one," she replied, bringing their joined hands to her lips and planting a kiss on the back of his hand, "All I need is you and I have that. I'm happy."

"Good," Tom replied, guiding them back against the mattress, "If you're happy, so am I."

* * *

**AN: **Yeah, I know... I thought it was adorable, anyway : P Is it weird that I felt butterflies in my stomach when Tom proposed to Hermione? shrug Anyway, folks, I hope you like it. Stay tuned for the next.


	22. Beginning Of The End

**AN: **Thank you to **BDSanta2001**, **Snowdove30**, **stsgirlie**, **MagZ86**, **jojobevco**, **The Oh So Bored One**, **anettemargarete **and **Monnbeam** for the reviews, alerts and favorites!

**Chapter 22: Begining of the End:**

Hermione and Tom emerged from the Room of Requirement together the next day, their hands firmly clasped together. Hermione found it difficult to stop smiling. As they appeared in front of the Potion's classroom, they heard an unmistakable commotion. They drew up to find a crowd of people standing around what appeared to be two angry students. Hermione realized with a sudden jolt that one of them was Ron and the other was an angry looking Ogden Avery. Both boys had their wands drawn and both were panting heavily. Hermione saw Harry hovering on the sidelines, being kept from the fight by Ruggiero Lestange and Olive Hornby.

Tom detatched himself from Hermione and strode easily into the crowd, which parted before him like water. He stopped beside the boys, his face painted with a bored looking disinterest.

"What is going on here, Avery?" Tom asked imperiously.

"This whelp was bad-mouthing me," Avery snarled, his black eyes never leaving Ron.

"And what did he say?" Tom asked, his own eyes sliding quickly toward Ron.

"He insulted my mum," Avery replied, "And I thought I'd teach him better."

"I've meet your mother, Avery," Tom replied and for one small moment Avery glanced at him in a way that said that he thought Tom was on his side, "And she is hardly a lady."

Avery's hopeful face shattered and cold rage twisted his features into a murderous glare. His eyes slid in the direction that Tom had come and came to rest on Hermione. She caught her breath when his eyes found her, feeling the intense need to run. She started backing away when it happened. Avery let out a bestial snarl and lunged at her. The crowd scattered and Avery was left with a clear path. Hermione screamed and barely ducked his reaching hands. It was chaos.

Tom, Ron and Harry were rushing toward them, their wands raised. The other Slytherin's barred their way. Tom was shouting at them but the entire fifth year Slytherin house stood in his way. He was no better to them now than the girl he was rushing to protect. Avery smiled when he saw that he was covered and continued to advance on Hermione. Her back collided with the corridor wall behind her and she was fumbling for her wand, her haste making her clumsy.

She closed her eyes as Avery's wand raised, ready for the attack. She could hear him begin a spell, one she didn't know. She could hear screams and what sounded like many curses being uttered at once followed by a loud bang. Her heart hammered in her chest as she heard Avery complete the incantation. She could see its light from behind her closed eyelids, but the blow never came. Instead, she heard someone grunt. She opened her eyes to see Tom standing in front of her, blocking her from whatever spell Avery had conjured up.

Tom turned his head and looked at her and she felt her eyes grow wide. Just then, Professor Slughorn came hurrying down the stairs. He was shouting, but Hermione couldn't hear his words. She was too focused on Tom's pain widened eyes. Too lost in the fact that his face was colourless and sweat coated. Too intent on catching him as his knees gave out and he sank to the ground. His body collided with hers, sending them both to the floor. She cradled his upper body in her lap as his eyes slid closed and he fell into unconsciousness.

Slughorn was at her side, his walrus mustache twitching with questions that she couldn't hear past the ringing in her ears. Slughorn gripped her shoulders, jerking her out of her panic. She met his eyes and it was as if a switch had been thrown. She could suddenly hear again. The corridor was buzzing with shouts and screams and what sounded like orders from the other professors who had appeared.

"Granger," Slughorn was saying, "Hermione, what happened?"

"He cursed him," she heard herself say, as if from a long way away. Her voice was high and slightly frantic, "He cursed him!"

"It is imperative that you tell me the incantation, Miss Granger," Slughorn was urging her.

Hermione was shaking her head, "I don't know...I was...he tried to curse me, but then Tom stepped in my way...I don't know what he did!"

Madam Iona was suddenly next to them. She had her wand pointed at Tom and levitated him onto a stretched, "We'll take him to the Hospital Wing. I'm sure it was nothing serious."

"I didn't recognize the incantation," Hermione said suddenly.

Madam Iona considered her words and nodded, disappearing up the stairs with Tom hovering behind her on the stretcher. Hermione watched until they disappeared and felt her head fall back against the wall. Slughorn was still asking her questions. She responded numbly. She saw Avery glare at her as another professor prodded him up the stairs to be taken to the Headmaster's office. Ron and Harry marching after him. Hermione got to her feet and made to follow them but Slughorn placed a large hand on her arm and her eyes widened. It was not Slughorn's hand, but a dark hand made of shadow. A hand that was cold as death. She looked up into the black, soulless eyes of the Shadow and opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

* * *

Hermione jolted awake and found Tom leaning over her, his brow furrowed in the darkness. Fear choked her. Light, she needed light. Just then, the room was illuminated with brightness as the candlesticks beside the bed burned to life. Once the room was illuminated, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow.

"What's the matter?" Tom asked her gently, placing a cool hand on her cheek, smoothing away her sweat drenched hair. She took a deep, calming breath and retold her nightmare. She had ended up in his arms, her ear pressed closely to his chest, listening to his strong, constant heartbeat. When she had finished her tale, his arms tightened around her and his breath was light against her hair.

"I would kill anyone who tried to hurt you," Tom said, his voice firm.

"It nearly killed you," Hermione replied, "But it was only a nightmare...or another warning."

Tom tensed under her and she looked up at him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Tom replied, running his thumb across her cheek lightly, making her shiver.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, her brows furrowing. Tom just blinked lazily at her. Why did she get the feeling that there was something that he wasn't telling her? He bent his head and kissed her gently.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?" he asked.

She nodded, "I just hope I don't have any more dreams."

* * *

Hermione and Tom emerged from the Room of Requirement together the next day, their hands firmly clasped together. Hermione found it difficult to stop the growing sense of apprehension that had lodged itself firmly in her stomach. As they appeared in front of the Potion's classroom, they found Harry, Ron and Minerva waiting for them. Harry smiled when he saw them while Ron looked a bit grim. Hermione offered them a friendly smile, but it disappeared almost at once. The Slytherin's were glaring at the couple with blatant hostility but none of them spoke.

They entered the class and sat down at their usual table, Hermione still feeling the tight knot of apprehension. Her face must have betrayed her because Tom touched her hand under the desk.

"Are you alright?" He asked her quietly.

"No," she sighed, "I keep feeling that something terrible is about to happen."

Tom shook his head, "Everything is fine. What can possibly go wrong?"

Hermione turned wide eyes on him, "How can you even ask that?"

"Sorry," Tom closed his eyes against his own uncharacteristic optimism, "I was just trying to help."

"I know," she replied, taking his hand in hers, suddenly feeling loads better.

Tom and Hermione were in the library. Ron and Harry were sitting at the table next to them, their faces looking just as confused and horrified as Hermione felt. Tom tightened his hold on her hand.

"What just happened?" Ron asked, his blue eyes as big as saucers.

"I don't know," Hermione squeaked out.

"We were in potions just then," Harry replied, looking down at his watch, "We just skipped a whole hour."

"Oh Merlin," Tom hissed, "What's going on now?"

"Mr. Riddle," said Dumbledore at the front of the Transfiguration's classroom, his blue eyes peering at Tom sternly, "I do hope that I'm not boring you with this lecture."

"Not at all, sir," Tom replied hastily.

Ron looked like he was struggling for breath at that point. Hermione felt hot tears spring up at her eyes. This was terrible! Now the had moved forward another hour. She blinked and when she opened her eyes again she found that she and Tom were in their room, the tiny window above the bed telling them that it was sometime at night. She burst into tears and Tom pulled her close.

"Did we move forward or back in time?" she sobbed, "I can't tell."

"I don't know," Tom whispered.

"I...can't...take...this," Hermione hiccuped between sobs.

"At least we're together," Tom tried, "Hush now, it will be okay."

"How will...it be...okay?" Hermione asked.

"We'll think of something," Tom's reply was feeble, even to his own ears, "Hermione, I have something to tell you."

"W...what?" she gasped.

Tom sighed heavily. He knew he should tell her about the Cronus but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew that if he did, he would send her into an even worse state than she was in currently. He held her and stroked her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I'm really glad I met you," he said at length, "And I truly believe that you were sent here to save me, to keep me from becoming the monster that you knew. If it hadn't been for you, I would have never known what love is and I would have been lost."

Her sobs quieted and she kissed him gently, "I was lost, too. I never saw it until I found you."

Tom smiled and kissed her again.

"Can't you find a more private place to do that?" Asked a sulky sounding voice on their left.

They broke apart to see Myrtle Jones, or as Hermione knew her, Moaning Myrtle scowling at them over a book. Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and wiped at the remaining tears in her eyes. They were back in the library.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked, "Myrtle, is it?"

Myrtle gave her a weary glance but nodded.

"Do you happen to know what day it is," Hermione said sweetly.

"It's Sunday," Myrtle replied and then buried her spotty face back into her book.

They had missed six whole days. Tom cursed suddenly and Hermione shot him a glace, as did the flustered librarian.

"My watch stopped," He announced.

"So has mine," replied Harry, who had appeared out of no where.

"This is not good," Ron groaned.

"Thank you for that brilliant observation," Tom hissed.

"Look," Hermione gasped.

All of the boys followed her horrified gaze. The people around them were frozen. Every motion had been trapped in time. The lights in the room flickered wildly and it was then that the group noticed. The flickering was coming from outside. Ron rose from his chair and stared out of the windows, unbelieving. The sun was rising and setting in quick succession. When he turned back to the group he let out a yelp of surprise. Three heads turned in the direction he was looking.

The Shadow was standing before them, much larger than Hermione remembered and definitely more menacing. Its eyes were aglow with the golden mist-light and it was made of an even denser darkness than before. It stood still, close to their table, but not so close that it could touch them. Hermione leapt from her seat, quickly followed by Harry and Tom. They began backing slowly toward the door, Ron joining them.

"We have warned you," said the Shadow, its voice loud and higher pitched, echoing througout the room, "And you have not obeyed and now we shall punish you. The Law must be upheld."

It opened its mouth wide and two dark shapes flew out. The dark masses floated in mid air before them and formed into creatures. Two gigantic bat-like creatures without eyes and wide yawning mouths full of sharp teeth hovered in front of them. One of the creatures gave out a shrill, chilling cry that sent shivers down their backs and chaos reigned.

Hermione screamed and that seemed to set them off. The monsters dove at them and one barely missed Ron by centimetres.

"RUN," Harry called and no one needed telling twice.

They clamored for the door, sending curses and jinxes uselessly at the pursuing beasts. They flew out of the library and down the hallway, ducking and dodging the black animals yawning mouths.

"Where can we go?" Ron yelled.

"The Room of Requirement," Hermione said instantly, somehow knowing that it would at least by them some time.

Hermione was sure that she had never run so fast in her life. Her chest seared with the exertion of running and her blood pounded through her veins. She ignored the pain. Tom grabbed her hand and threw her against the wall as a creature dove for her. He collided with her back and rolled with her across the wall as the other monster swooped. The two creatures circled with difficulty in the small corridors. They ran. The animals managed to right themselves and flew after them. As they ran, Tom's hand never released Hermione's. She spared him a glance, feeling her heart break as she did. This might be the last time she ever saw him. Tears blurred her vision yet again as one of the hunting beasts gave off another bone chilling cry.

**AN: **Haha! Two more chapters people and these two should go up pretty fast because they've been written pretty much as soon as I had the idea for this fic. I just need to refine them a bit.


	23. The End Of Everything

**AN: **Thank you to **LadyGaelen**, **BlueBohemian**, **MagZ86**, **stsgirlie**, **Rukoh**, **BDSanta2001**, **The Oh So Bored One** and **Monnbeam** for the reviews, alerts and favorites! Also, some of you may recognize a certain scene from Doctor Who, which belongs to the BBC.

**Chapter 23: The End Of Everything:**

The four of them flew down the seventh floor corridor. The black, winged creatures hot on their tail. The one closest to them let out a horrible scream of near triumph that sent a chill to rival that of a Dementor into their hearts. They plunged around a corner and Harry paced in front of the wall, praying for somewhere safe. The door to the Room of Requirement appeared and they all ran inside. The door closed just in time and the creatures slammed into it, yelling in angry defeat. Hermione hid her face in Tom's shoulder and he held her close, backing away from the door that was letting off protesting groans as the creatures tried to enter.

"What are those things?" Ron panted.

"They're something of legend," Tom replied.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking up at him, "How do you know that?"

"I read about them in one of the books I checked out from the Restricted Section," Tom answered her.

"Why didn't you say..." she gaped.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell you," Tom said, "You were already so worried and I didn't want to trouble you any furthur."

"So what are they exactly?" Harry asked.

"They're called the Cronus," Tom announced, pulling away from Hermione, but keeping her hand, "They're like the keepers of Time and when someone doesn't heed their warnings, they come after them...and supposedly drag them into a timeless and empty existence. Trapped between the folds of Time."

The door shuddered again and the group backed further into the room.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked, "How do we stop those things?"

"We can't," Tom shook his head, "The Cronus can only be defeated if time goes back to the way it was supposed to be."

"Right, so how do we do that?" Ron said.

"We don't." Hermione replied, "That's it. This is the end of everything."

Hermione's words stirred something in Harry's memory. He reached into his jumper and pulled out the moleskin pouch that Hagrid had given him, which he hadn't taken off once since they'd arrived. He took out the Snitch that Dumbledore had left him, the only thing that had survived over the gap in time. The cryptic message, _I open at the close_, suddenly made sense. This was the close. This was the moment. He pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered the words that flooded to the front of his brain with shinning certainty.

"It is done."

The wings of the Snitch beat furiously against his hands and he let it go. It flew toward the far wall of the Room of Requirement and burst open upon impact. Where the Snitch hit, a white glow spread over the wall and a roar echoed through the room. A light wind blew around them and they all had to shield their eyes from the light and the wind in their eyes. The door to the Room of Requirement shuddered as the creatures tried to get to them. Harry and Ron started for the light immediately and only stopped moving when they realized that Hermione wasn't following them.

"Hermione," Harry said over the noise, "Hermione, we've got to go!"

Hermione looked at her friends where they stood next to the time rift. She stood rooted to the spot, her hand still clasped in Tom's like a vice.

"Hermione!" Ron called, "Come on!"

The terrible screams of the monsters outside sent a chill through the group and Tom pulled his hand out of Hermione's. She looked up at him and he placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"You've got to go, Hermione," he said, dark blue eyes quite serious, "Those things came after you three because you don't belong here. You've got to go back to your own time. You'll be safe there."

"But you stay here?" Hermione asked.

"Those things will kill you," Harry replied.

Tom looked at him briefly before turning his gaze back to Hermione. Her brown eyes looked so determined.

"They won't come after me because I belong here, in this time," Tom said, knowing it was the truth, "I'll just have to distract them long enough to make sure the rift is sealed."

"I'm supposed to go?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," Tom nodded.

"Back to my own time and then it gets sealed off," she continued.

"Yes," Tom said quietly.

"Forever?" she asked to silence from the others, her eyes burning with frustrated tears, "That's not going to happen."

The room shuddered again as another angry cry from the animals outside was combined with the splintering of wood at the door. Ron grabbed hold of Hermione's hand and she ripped it back, taking two steps away from her friends.

"We're going," Harry said, "We have to."

"I'm not leaving him," Hermione snapped.

"Hermione," Ron said lightly, "Please?"

"I've had seven years with you," Hermione replied, "But Tom, Tom's been alone his whole life. But not anymore, because he's got me now."

"Hermione," Tom said quietly from beside her and she turned toward him, "You've got to go."

"Well that's tough!" she said, as tears began falling from her eyes.

Tom looked down at her and she reached for him, her hand resting on his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch and covered her hand with his own. He held it there and gazed into her determined, tear filled eyes.

"I made my choice a long time ago," she managed past the lump in her throat, "And I'm never going to leave you."

Tom pulled her into his arms and held her close. She clutched at him as hot tears spilled from her eyes. Tom held her and looked at Ron and Harry. The three boys shared a moment of silent communication. Hermione pulled away from him and looked up at him. He smoothed her hair away from her tear stained face and kissed her. It was a sweet, yet passionate kiss, a kiss that communicated more than mere words could ever have done. He broke the kiss and his gaze trailed toward the other two boys. He nodded once before looking back down at Hermione.

"I'm sorry," Tom said.

"What?" Hermione asked as two pairs of hands grabbed her arms and dragged her through the wall of light.

There was a blinding flash and a deafening roar and the light faded from the wall, leaving it smooth and cold once more.

"NO!" Hermione screamed as she pounded the solid wall in front of her, "Take me back! Take me back!"

Harry and Ron stood behind her, both of them unsure of what to do. Hermione continued to hit the wall, tears falling like a river down her cheeks.

"Ta-ake mee-e ba-a-ack," she yelled.

"It's sealed," Harry said softly, "We're safe now."

"No," Hermione moaned, "Take me back..."

She pressed her face against the wall, almost certain that she could sense Tom's presence on the other side. She choked back tears and listened, her hand pressed against the cold wall.

Tom stood alone in the Room of Requirement. The rift had closed. The banging and screaming of the strange creatures that had been chasing them had died. They had gone. Hermione was safe. Back in her own time. He walked toward the wall where Harry, Ron and Hermione had vanished and ran his hand along the smooth surface. He pressed his cheek against the cold stone and listened. He pressed his hand against the wall where he was almost certain that Hermione was doing the exact same thing on the other side, in her own time. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath before he turned away and walked out of the room.

Hermione closed her eyes and turned away from the wall. More tears welled up and she brought her hands up to cover her face. Ron started toward her. He stretched out his hand, tentatively, afraid to touch her. He finally placed his hand on her shoulder and when she didn't pull away from him, he took her into his arms and allowed her to cry into his chest. He rested his chin against the top of her head and rocked her back and forth. Harry walked over to them and also put his arms around her. The three of them stood there, both boys trying in vain to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered into her hair, "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Ron picked Hermione up. She had finally cried herself to sleep. He and Harry walked out of the Room of Requirement, the corridor beyond was silent and dark. Harry glanced at his watch. 1:01 a.m. It was like they had never left, except for the fact that the battle had apparently never happened. As they walked along, Harry caught his reflection in a window. He stopped dead in his tracks and moved closer to the window for a better look, almost sure that he had imagined it. His hand flew up to his forehead to find that it was smooth and unmarked. His scar was gone.

"Ron," Harry called, "Ron, my scar's gone!"

Ron shifted Hermione in his arms and looked at Harry's forehead.

"So it really did work," Ron smiled, but it was only half-hearted as looked down at Hermione's sleeping face.

"I wonder what else has changed," Harry said.

"I guess we'll find out in the morning," Ron replied with a huge yawn.

They continued toward the Gryffindor common room and spoke the password that they somehow knew. The Fat Lady swung open for them with a harsh comment about the time and they climbed into the common room. Ron laid Hermione on the couch and conjured a blanket for her. He smoothed it over her before he and Harry climbed the stairs toward the boy's dormitory.

Ron collapsed into his bed straight away with a heavy sigh. Harry mirrored him but something caught his eye on his nightstand. Harry sat bolt upright and grabbed the photo that stood next to his four poster. It was a photo of him and his parents. Lily and James Potter stood behind him in the photo, laughing and smiling down at their son.

"They're alive," Harry whispered.

"What?" Ron asked, pulling himself up and moving next to Harry.

"My parents are alive," Harry said as he handed the picture to Ron.

"Brilliant!" Ron said though another huge yawn.

Harry yawned with him, suddenly so very tired, "Let's get some sleep."

"Amen," Ron smiled as he made his way back to his own bed.

It wasn't long before both boys were fast asleep.

* * *

**AN: (**Maniacal laughter) One more people!


	24. Reset

**AN: **Thank you to **g.piz**, **MagZ86**, **stsgirlie**, **BDSanta2001**, **Hope.Arwen**, **thepajamaqueen85**, **The Oh So Bored One** and **Monnbeam**for the reviews, alerts and favorites. This is it kids, the last chapter. Thank you all so very much for making this story worth writing. Again, you may recognize a scene from Doctor Who, which belongs to the BBC.

**Chapter 24: Reset:**

_Hermione..._

Hermione looked up from the book she had been reading. The library was empty. Her eyebrows furrowed and she turned her attention back to her book.

_Hermione..._

She looked up again. This time she was sure that she had heard someone call her name.

_Hermione..._

There it was again. She inclined her head to try and hear better. Silence greeted her ears. She looked around, trying to see if someone was taking the Mickey out of her. No one was in the library but her.

_Hermione..._

Yes. She knew she had heard it! She stood up so quickly that the chair she had been sitting in clattered to the floor. The voice called to her again, only this time it was fainter, as if the speaker were moving away from her. She had to follow that voice. She knew that voice. She followed the source of the voice all the way to the Room of Requirement. She paced in front of the wall and just as the door swung open...

Hermione woke up with a start, her head lolling subtlety with the motion of the Hogwarts Express. Ron looked down at her with a light smile. She smiled back, readjusting her head on his shoulder.

"It's not like you to doze off on the train, Mione," Ron said.

Hermione yawned, "I was reading late last night. The new book I bought at Flourish and Blotts."

"Honsetly, you and your books," Ron smiled.

"Which book did you buy, anyway, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"It's called _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_," Hermione answered, sitting up in excitement, "It's really interesting. They have a whole chapter devoted to Dumbledore alone. I nearly read it all last night but I managed to put it down before the Q's though."

"That sounds really facinating," Harry rolled his eyes.

"You'd be surprised, Harry," Hermione laughed, "I think even you would enjoy it."

"I highly doubt that," Ginny teased, "Oh, Harry, how did your mum like the cake my mum sent over for her on her birthday, I keep forgetting to ask."

"She loved it," Harry exclaimed, "She always said your mum is a better hand at baking spells, which is true. I wish you guys could have been there. My dad smashed her face into it and everything."

"How's Sirius, by the way?" Ron asked.

"He was there, and Lupin, too," Harry replied, "They're all doing really well. Peter couldn't make it though, he got tied up at the store. Severus stopped by too, much to my dad's extreme dismay, but he didn't say anything."

"That's good," Ginny said, "He knows that Snape is your mum's best friend...I'm glad he didn't make a scene."

Hermione leaned against Ron and listened to her friends banter on about their holidays. As content as she was, she still couldn't stop thinking about her dream and the voice that had been calling her name. As she thought about it, she realized that she didn't recognize the speaker's voice, even though she knew it, somehow. That voice was like a long forgotten friend. The train came to a halt and they all disembarked for their final year at school, except for Ginny who was only a sixth year. They entered the Great Hall and ate dinner like usual. This year was exactly like every other year they'd had but Hermione still felt like she was missing something. Something important.

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room, just having finished her Potion's essay. She was the only one left in the room, Ron, Harry and the others having already gone up to bed. She leaned back against the couch and decided to finish her book, which she hadn't been able to get back to since the beginning of the year, having had so much work to do to get ready for her N.E.W.T.s.

She opened the book to the page she had left off at, just at the beginning of the chapter reserved for witches and wizards with the surnames that began with Q and started to read. It wasn't long before her eyelids began to droop. She hadn't realized how tired she was until she could keep her eyes open no longer. She closed her book, noting where she has left off at, (a witch named Ricson, Mona), and let herself fall asleep. The strange dream of someone calling to her replaying itself again.

* * *

Hermione woke to soft, golden morning light. She sat up to find that she had fallen asleep in the common room. She raised a hand to her head, sure that she had been dreaming of something. The dream was lost to the waking and she decided that it had been nothing. As she flung the blanket from herself, a piece of parchment fell to the floor. She looked down at it and picked it up, unfolding it to see only one word written in the middle of it in a tidy, slanting scrawl.

_Remember. _

She frowned down at the word on the parchment. The elegant handwriting called to her but she didn't know why. She shoved the parchment into the pocket of her robes and stood up. She stretched and made her way to the girls dormitory to get dressed. She pulled the parchment from her pocket and placed it in her jeans, not wanting to forget it, in case it was important. Once she was dressed, she headed back into the common room and retrieved the book she had been reading last night. Hermione turned toward the portrait hole and started toward the Great Hall. On the way she passed Draco Malfoy and his friends. He spotted her and gave her a nod of recognition.

"Granger," he called to her as she passed, "Don't forget we have a review in Ancient Runes on Monday."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione replied.

She was nearly to the Great Hall when she decided that she really wasn't hungry and headed to the library instead to finish off her book. She pulled out a chair and seated herself upon it, making herself comfortable She placed the book on the table in front of her and found the place where she had left off and began to read. She turned the page to find herself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes. She turned her gaze to the paragraph opposite the photo.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle, (1926 - 1945)_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle was a highly gifted wizard from his earliest days. He attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the years of 1938-1945 where he became a Slytherin. He is still boasted today as one of the brightest students Hogwarts has ever seen, putting him in ranks with the likes of Albus Dumbledore. His achievements at Hogwarts include an award for Special Services to the School for his discovery and victory over the monster in the legendary Chamber of Secrets at the end of his fifth year. Riddle, it turns out, was the famed Heir of Slytherin of the same legend. He was also made Head Boy in his final year at school and receive the Medal for Magical Merit._

_During the war with the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, Dumbledore asked for Riddle specifically, to aid him in Grindelwald's defeat sighting the fact that Riddle knew many spells that even Dumbledore himself did not. Riddle immediately came to the aid of his ex-Transfiguration professor and was, tragically, killed in the final battle. After his triumph over Grindelwald, Dumbledore claimed that he owed much to Riddle, without whom, he said, he could not have defeated Grindelwald. _

Hermione turned her attention to the photo once more. She saw the handsome face of Tom Marvolo Riddle gazing up at her through those hauntingly interesting dark blue eyes. His pale, gaunt face was smooth and impassive. She found herself drawn back to his eyes. She gazed into them and felt her heart skip a beat. She closed her own eyes and was immediately bombarded by a rush of images.

Her and Tom talking in the library. Her and Tom walking along a corridor together. Her and Tom dancing at the Halloween Masqurade. Her and Tom holding hands. Tom, saving her from an angry classmate. A dark Shadowy man who scared her. Her and Tom, laying in each others arms. Her and Tom getting "married". The Shadow creatures, frighteningly tall and menacing. Tom, shielding her from a horrible looking creature. Tom pulling her down a corridor toward safety. Tom kissing her one last time. She opened her eyes with a ragged gasp. She hastily slammed the book shut earning her a rude glace from Madam Pince. She got up from the table and nearly ran out of the library.

Her feet carried her toward the seventh floor corridor on their own accord. She had to find him. She knew that if she did, he would be able to explain everything. She just had to get to him. She stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that concealed the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Lemon sherbet," she tried.

"Sorry," the gargoyle replied.

"Chocolate Frogs," she said.

"No," the gargoyle said.

She tired about ten more passwords and when they all failed she let out a squeal of frustration.

"Look, I need to see Headmaster Dumbledore," she huffed, "Please. It's important."

"No one gets by without the password," the gargoyle replied.

"Please," Hermione implored again.

"Miss Granger?" Came a voice from behind her.

She spun around and saw Dumbledore standing behind her. She looked up at him and hot tears burst from behind her eyes. Dumbledore moved closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I think you had better come with me," he said kindly.

She hiccuped once and nodded. Dumbledore turned toward the stone gargoyle.

"True love," he said and the gargoyle hopped aside.

Dumbledore sat Hermione down and conjured tea for the both of them. He handed her a cup which she accepted silently.

"How may I help you, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"Tom," was all she could say.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled and sat back in his chair.

"Professor, I..." Hermione began, unsure of how to proceed, "Did I actually...back in 1941?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore nodded, "You did. And Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley as well."

"But I didn't remember until," she fished the parchment from her jeans and placed it on the desk.

Dumbledore smiled down at it but made no move to take it, "You wouldn't have."

"So do Harry and Ron..?" she asked.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "No, they do not remember, nor will they ever. That ill-starred experience is left only to you."

"He died..." Hermione began before her voice faltered.

"He did," Dumbledore nodded, "It was most unfortunate. Had he lived, oh, the things he could have achieved."

"But he wasn't evil," she continued.

"No," Dumbledore smiled, "No, you put a stop to that and for that, I, in fact, the entire Wizarding World, owe you a great deal of gratitude."

"But no one remembers," Hermione said softly, "It's like he never existed at all..."

"The important thing is that you remember him, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said softly, "And I'm sure that's all he ever wanted. For it was you, Hermione, who showed him that love and friendship could be the most powerful magic in all the world."

Hermione didn't say anything as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She swallowed hard and watched as Dumbledore disappeared into a cabinet. He rummaged around and finally returned with a small box. He placed it on the desk in front of Hermione, who gazed up at him, quizzically.

"He left that for you," Dumbledore said, "He left it with me in hopes that you would come to me for answers."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I do not know," Dumbledore replied, "It wasn't ment for me and so, would not open for me."

Hermione stared at the velvet box in front of her.

"Take it," Dumbledore smiled, "It's yours."

Hermione took the box from the desk and held it in her hand.

"I think you had better open it somewhere private," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes sparkling over his half moon spectacles, "And I think you know just the place."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said.

Dumbledore nodded at her and watched with a bittersweet smile as she left the office.

Hermione walked down the corridor and stared at the blank stretch of wall. A door carved itself in the wall and she walked inside. The room was empty and she paced around it in a small circle, fingering the velvet box in the pocket of her jumper. The box he had left for her. She took a deep breath and pulled it from her pocket, opening it. There was a ring inside, a silver ring with a small translucent stone set in the middle of it. Hermione took the ring out and put it on and found that was warm against her finger. In fact, the moment she put the ring on, a light, peaceful feeling crept through her body from top to bottom.

There was a shimmering in the middle of the room and she turned toward it. She gasped. The pale, transparent figure of Tom stood in the middle of the room. He was just the way she had remembered him, if not a bit older. She started toward him, tentatively.

"I told you I'd get you a ring," he said.

"Tom?" she asked needlessly.

Tom smiled at her, "It's me, Hermione."

"Where...what...?" she gaped.

"It's ancient magic," Tom said, "Something like a Horcrux only in the reverse."

"I don't understand," Hermione replied.

"Love, Hermione," Tom smiled, "Love."

"You look like a ghost," she said.

"I am," Tom nodded, "Well, close enough to one. I'm a memory. Your memory."

"Can I..." she reached for him, her hand inches from his transparent face.

"I'm just an image," Tom shook his head, "No touching."

"Can't you come through properly?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know I can't," he said softly.

"But it's like you said," she replied, "If this is like a Horcrux...you can still come through..."

"I can't," he shook his head.

Hermione's eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She knew he couldn't, knew that it was foolish to suggest it but she still couldn't help hoping. She stood in front of his ethereal form, wishing that she could just hold him, if only for a moment. A single tear escaped her eye and glided down her cheek as she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"How long will this last?" she asked.

"About five minuets," Tom replied.

"I can't think of what to say," she laughed.

Tom smiled.

"You died," she choked out.

Tom nodded, "And my last thoughts were of you."

Hermione sobbed and Tom's image moved toward her, but stopped. He looked down at her, dark blue eyes gone soft and shook his head at his own foolishness.

"Grindelwald got the better of me," Tom continued, "Cursed me with something dreadful...I was already so close to death that I decided to try something...something that wasn't supposed to be possible...but I'd seen so many impossible things with you that I thought...it wouldn't hurt to try. So I performed the spell...it took all the remainder of my strength to do it, but I didn't care. My only thought was of somehow being able to see you again."

Hermione gazed up at him, languish plain in her shimmering brown eyes.

"I used the last bit of my energy just to say goodbye," he smiled wistfully.

"Why?" Hermione said softly, "If you hadn't done that spell you would still be alive."

"No," Tom shook his head, "No, Grindelwald's curse was far too powerful."

"I..." Hermione began, her voice faltering.

She took a deep breath and tried again, "I love you."

"Quite right, too," Tom smiled weakly, "And since it's my last chance to say it..."

Hermione held her breath as his image grew fainter.

"...Hermione Granger Riddle, I love you."

The last was barley more than a whisper. Hermione dissolved into tears. He had said it and she knew with all of her heart that he meant it. She looked up just in time to see a single tear trailing down his cheek as he smiled at her. She opened her mouth to say goodbye, but his image disappeared completely. She closed her mouth and sank to the floor, looking at the ring on her finger, Tom's last gift of love for her.

**AN: **So that's it. If enough of you ask, I have an **alternate ending**that I'm working on, so if you'd like that one, let me know. And yes, it will be a happier one. I hope you all enjoyed this fic and again, thank you so much for reading it!


	25. Alternate Ending

**AN: **Thank you to **ItrustSeverusSnape**, **LadyGaelen**, **stsgirlie**, **Angelo Del Ghiaccio**, **sarenelsoria**, **The Oh So Bored One**, **The Almighty Cheez It**, **MagZ86**, **Timmorn**, **TheSlytherin**, **aal613** and **Monnbeam**for all of your reviews, alerts and favorites. I'm so pleased that you all liked it. Thank you so very, very much! This is the happier version of the end...Originally, the way it starts in the beginning, with Hermione waking up in the common room was the first draft of the end and took place immediately after Chapter 23. So you can read it like that. Enjoy.

**Alternate Ending: Remember:**

_Hermione..._

Hermione looked up from the book she had been reading. The library was empty. Her eyebrows furrowed and she turned her attention back to her book.

_Hermione..._

She looked up again. This time she was sure that she had heard someone call her name.

_Hermione..._

There it was again. She inclined her head to try and hear better. Silence greeted her ears. She looked around, trying to see if someone was taking the Mickey out of her. No one was in the library but her.

_Hermione..._

Yes. She knew she had heard it! She stood up so quickly that the chair she had been sitting in clattered to the floor. The voice called to her again, only this time it was fainter, as if the speaker were moving away from her. She had to follow that voice. She knew that voice. She followed the source of the voice all the way to the Room of Requirement. She paced in front of the wall and just as the door swung open...

Hermione woke to soft, golden morning light. She sat up to find that she had fallen asleep in the common room. She raised a hand to her head, sure that she had been dreaming of something. The dream was lost to the waking and she decided that it had been nothing. As she flung the blanket from herself, a piece of parchment fell to the floor. She looked down at it and picked it up, unfolding it to see only one word written in the middle of it in a tidy, slanting scrawl.

_Remember_

She frowned down at the word on the parchment. The elegant handwriting called to her but she didn't know why. She shoved the parchment into the pocket of her robes and stood up. She stretched and made her way to the girls dormitory to get dressed. When she returned to the common room, she found that some of the other students had woken, as well. To her great confusion, she realized that she didn't know what day it was. She saw Ginny sitting on the couch that she had just vaccated and decided to ask.

"Ginny," she said and Ginny turned toward her, "What day is it today?"

"Lost track of time while studying again, have you?" Ginny smiled, "It's May 2."

"Thanks," Hermione said, "Are you going down to breakfast?"

"I'm going to wait for Harry," Ginny replied, "But of course I don't fault you for leaving without Ron."

Hermione laughed, "Yes, I would like to maintain my appetite."

"I'll tell him you've gone down," Ginny replied.

"Actually, I'll probably be in the library by the time he gets up," Hermione said, "I have a History of Magic essay to finish off."

"I bet he does too," Ginny smiled again, "But, seeing as how it's a Saturday, he'll probably have a good lie in."

"Probably," Hermione laughed, knowing her boyfriend all to well, "See you later, Gin."

With that, Hermione turned toward the portrait hole and started toward the Great Hall. On the way she passed by Draco and his friends. He spotted her and gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

"Granger," he called to her as she passed, "Don't forget we have a review in Ancient Runes on Monday."

"Thank you, Malfoy," Hermione replied.

She was nearly to the Great Hall when she decided that she really wasn't hungry and headed to the library instead to finish off her essay. She pulled out her half completed essay and found the book she had been using as research. She placed the book, (_Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_), on the table in front of her and found the place where she had left off and began to read.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle, (1926 - 1945)_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle was a highly gifted wizard from his earliest days. He attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the years of 1938-1945 where he became a Slytherin. He is still boasted today as one of the brightest students Hogwarts has ever seen, putting him in ranks with the likes of Albus Dumbledore. His achievements at Hogwarts include an award for Special Services to the School for his discovery and victory over the monster in the legendary Chamber of Secrets at the end of his fifth year. Riddle, it turns out, was the famed Heir of Slytherin of the same legend. He was also made Head Boy in his final year at school and receive the Medal for Magical Merit._

_During the war with the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, Dumbledore asked for Riddle specifically, to aid him in Grindelwald's defeat sighting the fact that Riddle knew many spells that even Dumbledore himself did not. Riddle immediately came to the aid of his ex-Transfiguration professor and was, tragically, killed in the final battle. After his triumph over Grindelwald, Dumbledore claimed that he owed much to Riddle, without whom, he said, he could not have defeated Grindelwald. _

Hermione turned her attention to the photo on the page opposite the paragraph. She saw the handsome face of Tom Marvolo Riddle gazing up at her through dark blue eyes. His pale, gaunt face was smooth and impassive. She found herself drawn back to his eyes. She gazed into them and felt her heart skip a beat. She closed her eyes and was immediately bombarded by a rush of images.

Her and Tom talking in the library. Her and Tom walking along a corridor together. Her and Tom dancing at the Halloween Masqurade. Her and Tom holding hands. Tom, saving her from an angry classmate. A dark Shadowy man who scared her. Her and Tom, laying in each others arms. Her and Tom getting "married". The Shadow creatures, frighteningly tall and menacing. Tom, shielding her from a horrible looking creature. Tom pulling her down a corridor toward safety. Tom kissing her one last time. She opened her eyes with a ragged gasp. She hastily slammed the book shut earning her a rude glace from Madam Pince. She got up from the table and nearly ran out of the library.

Her feet carried her toward the seventh floor corridor on their own accord. She had to find him. She knew that if she did, he would be able to explain everything. She just had to get to him. She stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that concealed the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Lemon sherbet," she tried.

"Sorry," the gargoyle replied.

"Chocolate Frogs," she said.

"No," the gargoyle said.

She tired about ten more passwords and when they all failed she let out a squeal of frustration.

"Look, I need to see Headmaster Dumbledore," she huffed, "Please. It's important."

"No one gets by without the password," the gargoyle replied.

"Please," Hermione implored again.

"Miss Granger?" Came a voice from behind her.

She spun around and saw Dumbledore standing behind her. She looked up at him and hot tears burst from behind her eyes. Dumbledore moved closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I think you had better come with me," he said kindly.

She hiccuped once and nodded. Dumbledore turned toward the stone gargoyle.

"True love," he said and the gargoyle hopped aside.

Dumbledore sat Hermione down and conjured tea for the both of them. He handed her a cup which she accepted silently.

"How may I help you, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"Tom," was all she could say.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled and sat back in his chair.

"Professor, I..." Hermione began, unsure of how to proceed, "Did I actually...back in 1941?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore nodded, "You did. And Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley as well."

"But I didn't remember until," she fished the parchment from her jeans and placed it on the desk.

Dumbledore smiled down at it but made no move to take it, "You wouldn't have."

"So do Harry and Ron..?" she asked.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "No, they do not remember, nor will they ever. That ill-starred experience is left only to you."

"He died..." Hermione began before her voice faltered.

"He did," Dumbledore nodded, "It was most unfortunate. Had he lived, oh, the things he could have achieved."

"But he wasn't evil," she continued.

"No," Dumbledore smiled, "No, you put a stop to that and for that, I, in fact, the entire Wizarding World, owe you a great deal of gratitude."

"But no one remembers," Hermione said softly, "It's like he never existed at all..."

"The important thing is that you remember him, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said softly, "And I'm sure that's all he ever wanted. For it was you, Hermione, who showed him that love and friendship could be the most powerful magic in all the world."

Hermione didn't say anything as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She swallowed hard and watched as Dumbledore disappeared into a cabinet. He rummaged around and finally returned with a small box. He placed it on the desk in front of Hermione, who gazed up at him, quizzically.

"He left that for you," Dumbledore said, "He left it with me in hopes that you would come to me for answers."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I do not know," Dumbledore replied, "It wasn't ment for me and so, would not open for me."

Hermione stared at the velvet box in front of her.

"Take it," Dumbledore smiled, "It's yours."

Hermione took the box from the desk and held it in her hand.

"I think you had better open it somewhere private," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes sparkling over his half moon spectacles, "And I think you know just the place."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said.

Dumbledore nodded at her and watched with a bittersweet smile as she left the office.

Hermione walked down the corridor and stared at the blank stretch of wall. A door carved itself in the wall and she walked inside. The room was empty and she paced around it in a small circle, fingering the velvet box in the pocket of her jumper. The box he had left for her. She took a deep breath and pulled it from her pocket, opening it. There was a ring inside, a silver ring with a small translucent stone set in the middle of it. Hermione took the ring out and put it on and found that was warm against her finger. In fact, the moment she put the ring on, a light, peaceful feeling crept through her body from top to bottom.

There was a shimmering in the middle of the room and she turned toward it. She gasped. The pale, transparent figure of Tom stood in the middle of the room. He was just the way she had remembered him, if not a bit older. She started toward him, tentatively.

"I told you I'd get you a ring," he smiled.

"Tom?" she asked needlessly.

Tom smiled at her, "It's me, Hermione."

"Where...what...?" she gaped.

"It's ancient magic," Tom said, "Something like a Horcrux only in the reverse."

"I don't understand," Hermione replied.

"Love, Hermione," Tom smiled, "Love."

"You look like a ghost," she said.

"I am," Tom nodded, "Well, close enough to one. I'm a memory. Your memory."

"Can I..." she reached for him, her hand inches from his transparent face.

"I'm just an image," Tom shook his head, "No touching."

"Can't you come through properly?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know I can't," he said softly.

"But it's like you said," she replied, "If this is like a Horcrux...you can still come through..."

"I can't," he shook his head.

Hermione's eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She knew he couldn't, knew that it was foolish to suggest it but she still couldn't help hoping. She stood in front of his ethereal form, wishing that she could just hold him, if only for a moment. A single tear escaped her eye and glided down her cheek as she looked up at him and gasped. Was it just her imagination, or was he...becoming solid?

"Tom," she gasped.

Tom looked down at his hands, confusion and wonder plain in his eyes. He was! He was becoming solid. Hermione closed her eyes and wished harder than she had ever wished before that this wasn't some trick. She needed him to be real. She loved him far to much for her to let him go. Her heart pumped furiously and her eyes burned with tears that leaked out of her eyes. Please, please let him stay. The ring on her finger burned her skin, but she ignored the pain. It was nothing compared with the pain she felt when she thought of losing him again. She could feel warmth beat against her front. She opened her eyes and her breath stopped. Tom was standing centimeters in front of her. He looked solid enough.

He looked down at her, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her hair. She could feel his warmth radiating against her body. He had to be real. He raised his hand. It hovered uncertainly next to her cheek. She wanted nothing more than for him to close the space between them but they were both frozen. Both too unsure that he was real. Both knowing, somehow, that if he was still just a memory, that he would disappear if they made contact with one another.

"Hermione," he whispered, his hand closing the space between them.

His hand made contact with her cheek and it was warm and real and alive. She closed her eyes against the feeling and let off an abrupt laugh of joy before she flung her arms around him. He held her against himself and refused to let her go. She looked up at him, his dark blue eyes sparking with happiness. Then he was kissing her almost fiercely, his mouth searching hers as if for the first time. She responded happily, letting all caution fall away. He was really there, really with her and she didn't know why and she didn't care.

"How is this possible?" Tom breathed.

"I don't care," Hermione replied, kissing him again.

Tom pulled away, "Merlin, I thought I'd lost you forever."

"Me too," Hermione replied, again, kissing him, "And I didn't remember you...not until..."

"You saw the note," Tom smiled, brushing her hair away from her face, "I left it for you."

"How?" Hermione asked.

"I left it with Dumbledore," Tom replied, "Before I...died, I managed to give him the ring and the note. I told him to keep it safe and give it to you if you ever looked for me."

"He must have left it then," Hermione smiled, "That wonderful, wonderful man!"

She pulled him down to her again and kissed him softly, "I'm so happy."

Tom's smiling face faltered as he caught sight of something over Hermione's head. She frowned and turned to look. She yelped in surprise and grabbed onto Tom, putting herself in front of him.

"You can't take him!" She screamed.

The Shadow Cronus stood silently watching them. Its eyes that were usually black or golden mist were completely white. It held up its hand, which was clasped around an hourglass that was completely empty.

"True love knows no bounds," said the echoing voice which had become much smoother and gentler than Hermione remembered. "And it is a Power too great for even Us to touch. Love is the greatest Power of all and we bow to it. We shall no longer trouble you."

The Shadow Cronus turned the hourglass once for each sentence it spoke. They both watched silently as golden mist filled up both sides of the hourglass so that no one side was empty. It opened its hand and let the hourglass fall to the floor. It shattered and disappeared and the Shadow faded away. Tom wrapped his arms around Hermione and held her close and she leaned the back of her head against his chest. Love really was the most powerful thing in the universe, even more powerful than Time itself. Hermione turned in Tom's arms and looked up at him again.

"We can stay together now," she smiled.

Tom rested his forehead against hers and echoed her smile, "I know."

"You have a lot to learn about our time," Hermione replied.

"That's fine," Tom said bringing his face down lower, "At least I'll have you by my side and that's all that matters."

"I'm never going to leave you," Hermione said, turning her face up toward his.

"Never, ever," Tom whispered, his words fading into a kiss.

Hermione smiled as his lips meet hers once more. They would have a lot of hurtles to jump but he was with her and they would stay together this time. She knew that. Their love had conquered time itself. There wasn't anything they couldn't face now.

* * *

**AN: **There you go, a happily ever after ending. Again, thank you all so much for reading!


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